


Blessed

by jmajerus



Series: Blessed [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Magic, Multi, Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-16 06:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 105,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21503689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmajerus/pseuds/jmajerus
Summary: At the age of ten, Gwendolyn Wood had something horrifyingly fantastic happen to her.  She was blessed by Variel, the Goddess of Chaos.  At the edge of her sanity at the age of fourteen she burns Solreth's, the God of Justice's, temple to the ground. Now at eighteen she's been released from the worst prison in the land to be collected by the King to join the other God Blessed gems in his crown.  Can she learn how to control an uncontrollable gift of chaos, discovering where she might belong, and returning to the scene of her greatest crime?
Series: Blessed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630759
Comments: 12
Kudos: 10





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is the first book in a quartet I have written. I am trying to edit chapters before posting. Overall there are four books. I leave suggestions and comments. For those who have me followed from ACOTAR fanfiction and want to read this, welcome and I truly appreciate you reading.

The walls were gray. The floor was gray. Her rough made sack dress was gray. The too tight metal shackles around her wrists were gray. Her once slightly tanned skin was gray. Her once dark chestnut brown hair was gray. Everything was gray. Long before she had ever been sent here she had heard that the very stones that had built the large gray structure had been engraved with runes to bind magic. Color was a magic in itself so it too was bound to the dullest of shades. She tried to remember color but even her memories were gray and it took too much energy to try and recall the shock of red, the vibrancy of green, or the cool touch of blue. The veteran guards explained to new recruits that it helped break the prisoners a little faster. Take away their color, take away comforts, take away their individuality, take away their hope.

“Get up!” A rough shout went through the hallway outside of the barred door. If this place had windows to be able to tell time, she would guess they were still being dragged up before dawn and wouldn’t return until well after midnight. Prisoners were allowed very little sleep. It was another way to break them.

A moan drew her attention to the woman on the other stone bench in her cell. A middle aged woman that had once been plump but whose skin now hung slack by a few months of scant portions of tasteless, unidentifiable food. Lack of food, yet another way to break them. Another moan came from the woman. She had heard her middle aged cellmate had turned her magic to assisting assassins into the capital to eventually turn on the royal family.

This wasn’t a prison for the pick pockets of the streets or even the most skilled thieves. This was a prison for mages that committed murder or treason. Faserlaeh, a name that was known across the continent as a worse than death sentence. Of course, it was a death sentence. No one survived long. The guards were cruel, made crueler by having to suffer the lack of color and taste like the prisoners. They carried iron tipped whips and batons and used them freely on anyone that displeased them. Female prisoners, and sometimes male prisoners, were subject to the guards’ physical needs. They worked long hours at repetitive tasks such as making candles for the many temples in the kingdom, scouring armor from the army, and making paper. All of this was meant to break them and once someone was broken, they went one of two ways. Either they slowly wasted away on scant sleep, food, and lack of will to live, or they went the path she assumed her newest cellmate was destined to go.

“I said ‘Get up’!” The guard was at their door and beating his baton on the bars. This would be a last warning. The door opened and the guard saw her standing and waiting by the unadorned stone bench that served as every prisoner’s bed. His grip on her small arm was bruising as he hauled her to the door and tossed her out to the other guards rounding up the prisoners of this hallway to connect their shackles to the line. She and the others heard the sound of a baton hitting flesh and bone and the unearthly cries that those that went the second path. As the guards tugged the line to get them moving, she turned her eyes away from her cell. She hid a grimace. The cell would have the coppery scent of blood until a new cellmate was brought and forced to scrub the dark stain left behind by the person before.


	2. Chapter 1

“Attention!” A Sergeant of the Guard called. Immediately all work stopped, and she turned with twenty other women to face the door. No one made eye contact with the heavily muscled man. He had a reputation for breaking bones for those bold enough to look into his eyes. The Sergeant started a slow walk through the women his eyes on their chests. This particular interruption to their day was routine. They were often inspected which often led to guards finding a few reasons to add injuries to their already beaten bodies. Sometimes guards were looking to their chests for their own amusement, but often it was for the identification number stitched there. On their diet women didn’t maintain desirable amounts of flesh to be looked at for long.

“You! Step out!” The Sergeant had stopped in front of her. She took one step forward to find a baton under her chin. The smoothed wood held a lead core that would break her jaw if he so decided. She had somehow managed to avoid a beating from a baton for the entire length of her existence in Faserlaeh but it seemed as though that lucky streak was about to end. The Sergeant forced her chin upwards until she was looking up at his face. Since she was about to be beaten anyway she took in the details of his face quickly. His eyes: beady. His nose: large and crooked as if it had been broken at least once. His lips: thin and curved downwards into a frown. The baton drew away and she braced herself internally for the pain that was about to shatter through the numbness she felt.

“The Captain requests your presence,” the Sergeant gave her a smirk. “Move her out of the line!” He snapped to the guards that maintained the chain each prisoner was connected to each time they left their cell. It was meant to keep any thoughts of escape to a minimum. There was no way a prisoner could get out of the maze that made up the interior of Faserlaeh if the line didn’t exist but the thought of having to drag the other prisoners along as well made all thoughts of attempts nonexistent.

As the guards moved to disconnect her shackles from the line, she knew no envious glances were passed her way. The first Captain that had been in charge of the prison when she had first arrived had encouraged torturing the prisoners to help clear up cells quicker. The second Captain had turned a blind eye. The third Captain hadn’t lasted long enough to make an impression. He had left only a month before and now the newest Captain was an unknown element. There was a good chance he was the most sadistic man that the King could find. It took a special type of man to want the position of commanding the kingdom’s highest security mage prison.

The Sergeant walked in front of her snapping the chain that held her shackles to jerk her along while two guards flanked her. She kept herself from stumbling too much because if she fell, she’d be dragged along the floor to their destination. They twisted through the gray maze of stone and iron bars that was meant as an added barrier to completely impossible escapes. She had always known she had been on an upper floor as they went down a twisting set of stairs to what she assumed was a main floor. But then again, if she had designed the prison, she would make sure there was nothing the prisoners ever needed to visit on the main floor in case they made it that far and did try and make an escape for the door.

The door to the Captain’s office was plain with a shining new metal plaque listing the name of the new Captain and his titles and accomplishments. It was meant to scare any prisoner brought to the Captain’s attention. She didn’t waste her time on looking close enough to read. She didn’t have time to do more than notice it was new as the Sergeant knocked on the door and then opened it to lead her inside. 

“Ah yes, you found her,” the Captain’s voice was pleasant sounding as she was led inside. She rolled her eyes in her mind. Of course, they found her. The prison ran in a way that the only way they wouldn’t have found her is if she had been either in a guard’s bed or dead. She preferred the latter option if she was to have gone missing.

“Bow to the Captain, Scum,” the Sergeant whipped her chains making her lurch forward into an awkward bow.

“You have an interesting history,” the Captain unrolled a scroll. “Burned down the Temple of Solreth in Port Tythrenn with magical fire accounting for multiple injuries and eleven deaths, very impressive. Arrived here at the age of fourteen, the youngest prisoner we’ve ever had. Somehow, you’ve survived four years here, our longest surviving prisoner. It leads me to question how it is possible that you have not been broken yet.” His eyes were still on the scroll. “You’ve been through thirty-eight cellmates, impressive. You’ve been notably publicly whipped as an example to others twenty-two times. I’m thoroughly intrigued by you, My Dear.”

She fought to keep her face blank of emotion. Her life for the last four years had been recorded merely in the number of cellmates she had witnessed give up and die and the number of times she had been publicly tortured to make an impression on other prisoners. It was done every month or so to show new prisoners and to remind old unbroken prisoners what awaited them when the guards were displeased. She had been selected enough times that she no longer felt relief when they passed her over. And here the Captain was intrigued by the records of her. Perhaps he’d be more intrigued if he had more information, but she wasn’t about to give him any. She was going to stand here silently staring at the floor with a blank face until she found out why she was summoned.

“Naturally, if I had the opportunity, I would make it a point to study you and find the ways in which we could break you. I’d believe it would be my greatest accomplishment.” She glanced up at him through her eyelashes to find he was idly playing with a baton on his desk. “Unfortunately, I have to follow orders and release you into the custody of these men,” he waved vaguely at two heavily muscled men standing on the side of the room with matching uniforms with a crown over crossed swords marking the chests of their tunics. “She has no personal effects. We’ll require her uniform back,” he waved the men forward.

“We’ll send it back with the shackles once she is aboard the ship,” one of the men informed the Captain. “We’ll require all copies of your records of her as well.” She swore she saw the Captain pout a little as he produced several more scrolls to hand to the men and then roll up the scroll in front of him. The Sergeant handed over the chain to the nearest of the men and suddenly she was being tugged along the hallways until they reached a massive set of iron doors. 

She wondered who the men were. Clearly, they were connected to the King or they wouldn’t dare wear his royal insignia especially to a prison for treacherous mages and murderers. So, what was to become of her? She didn’t have an answer. She hadn’t dared think of an answer to that question since she had been ten. And the last four years had held the thoughts of death at the end of that question. She would have to wait until she knew more before she had her answer this time. Whatever it was, she was certain it was better than back in Faserlaeh with that Captain. The doors were shoved open and she held in her gasp.

Outside the ground in front of them was gray. The stone path and the grass to either side of it were gray. The fifteen-foot stone wall that wrapped the length of the building was gray. The sky was gray. She had hoped for color of some kind, but it was still missing. Was she doomed to not see color ever again?

“Damn power binding runes. I’ll be happy when we are off this cursed island and away from these damn runes.” One of the men growled.

“The sea wall was built with them too so the whole island is surrounded, to dishearten the mages upon arrival,” the other guard laughed. “I’m glad we aren’t spending more than a couple of hours here. The runes also suck the taste right out of all food. I, for one, already miss the cooks in the barracks compared to the slop we get on the ship and I’m not looking forward to spending a dinner inside of the circle of these runes.”

“Then we’d best hurry,” the first man glanced back at her and tugged at the chains harder. “Move faster, Girl!” He snapped.

She picked up her pace not because they told her to but because there was a promise of the luxuries of color and taste off of this island, and perhaps, she’d get to leave the island with them. Down the stone path, through the stone gate of the stone wall, passed the stone and wood buildings that made up the barracks for the guards of Faserlaeh, and then down to the docks where a great wooden ship awaited. 

This one looked different from the ship she had arrived in Faserlaeh on. That ship had been little more than a repurposed fishing vessel that reeked of old catches in the belly where they had had rows of shackles to contain prisoners. This ship looked clean, maintained, and much larger. The crew wasn’t a bunch of grumbling mercenaries but clean, uniformed men that moved about with purpose. She spared a glance at the flag rising from the crow’s nest: it also bore the royal insignia. Another piece of information to tuck away for a time when she had enough to put the picture together.

She was dragged up the gangplank and past well to do sailors down into the belly of the ship. Unlike the previous ship, the hull of this ship was built to have rooms and down a long hallway. They walked past several open doors revealing wooden bunks with orderly sheets tucked in smoothly and neatly folded blankets. They arrived at the end of a long hallway where a door was opened, and she was shoved inside. This was like the others, but it lacked bedding proving no one was using it and a tub with water sat against the back wall. A small pile of clothes sat on the corner of one bunk along with the very familiar shackles.

The men removed the too tight shackles from her wrists, and she stared at the pale ruined flesh beneath where they had been cinched for four years. “Strip!” She heard the order and didn’t hesitate though they were men. There was nothing on her body they would find desirable and they weren’t the affection starved guards inside of Faserlaeh. She pulled off the sack dress and neatly folded it. When she looked up at the men, one of them was looking her over though it didn’t seem with any sort of physical interest. “Into the bath. You’ll be clean or you’ll go back.”

The water was cold and smelled of salt. Sea water. It would hurt any still open wounds from her last few run ins with the guards and their whips but the prospect of clean was too good to pass up. She climbed into the tub silently wondering if the two men would stay the whole bath. Once she was in one of them pointed to a cake of soap sitting on a small metal tray inside of the tub. Yes, they certainly were going to stay the whole bath, but they turned so they weren’t looking directly at her.

She studied both men further as she scrubbed her hair and body with the scentless soap. They were both muscled enough for her to guess they spent time building up strength. Both moved with the confidence of men that trained with, and likely had mastered, a weapon or two. Neither wore swords or daggers openly but she guessed they likely carried them. These were guards or soldiers, likely soldiers verses guards by the fact she would bet she was on a royal navy ship. They had armbands around their biceps. Both armbands held a dark circle with a darker circle in its center. She guessed they were two different colors. She wasn’t familiar enough with military rankings to guess what the armband meant except that armbands normally meant higher rankings than just regular soldiers. It would make sense that they’d send more ‘elite’ soldiers to retrieve a proven deadly mage. But the question still was who had sent them for her? Why did they want her? She still didn’t have enough clues for an answer, so she applied her mind to making sure she was clean everywhere.

After she had scrubbed thoroughly and rinsed the soap from her body into the now very dirty water, she stood. The men pointed absently to a rough drying cloth. The fabric chafed her skin raw, but it oddly made her feel cleaner. When she was dry, she found the pile of clothes thrust against her chest.

“Put those on,” the man ordered. She kept her head shake internal. As if she didn’t know what to do with clothes. The bundle contained a loincloth, a canvas shirt that rubbed against her raw skin, and wool breeches that made her itch. Once she was dressed the men attached a new pair of shackles to her wrists. These shackles weren’t blood-flow stopping tight which was an improvement, but they weren’t loose enough for her to slip off. The other difference between these shackles and the other set was the fact the cuffs slid along a thin but strong chain to allow her a two-foot range of movement between her arms. Her shackles were then connected to a five-foot chain that connected to the head of one set of wooden bunks.

“You’ll be able to reach the chamber pot but not the door,” one man explained. “You’ll be brought your meals. Any funny business with your magic and you’ll find this ship turned around and you’ll be back at Faserlaeh.” She didn’t acknowledge the statement. If she had a mind to unleash her power, it was likely the ship wouldn’t be in a condition to make it back to this prison island and she’d likely die along with everyone on the ship. She hadn’t avoided death this long to burn a ship in the middle of the sea. The men left and she sat down on the bottom bunk to think about her life so far.

She had been born a peasant, the lowest class citizen of the Kingdom of Dovania. Her parents, three older brothers, two older sisters, and herself had all called the Forest Bryndall home. The large forest held the northwestern corner of Dovania. While they had lived in the forest, they were half a day’s walk from one of the main roads at the southern edge and only two days walk beyond that to one of the largest port cities in the known kingdoms, Port Tythrenn. 

Her mother had been an herbalist and had spent long hours in the garden cultivating plants that had been dug up and transplanted from the forest. If her father wanted to bring her mother a gift, he brought her new cuttings or full uprooted plants from his time out in the forest. Her mother had taken those plants and had turned them into dyes and tinctures. Her father had been a trapper, bringing in meat, hides, and furs from the local animals. Once every other month her father and brothers made the walk to Port Tythrenn to sell and trade the dyes, tinctures, and prepared furs and hides.

They had made enough to set aside the coin to send her eldest brother to train to be a city guard in Port Tythrenn. For two years he had trained to become part of the Tythrenn Watch. His training had been an investment that had him planning to send home part of his wages and to act as a connection for better positions for his siblings in the city. Her sisters were secured jobs in the city sewing clothes and weaving. Her second oldest brother had attached himself to their father to learn to trap. Her third oldest brother found a position as a stable hand at an inn. She had been too young to find work in the city, so she had stayed back and had learned at her mother’s hip.

Before she had been six her mother had been able to leave her to make tinctures and dyes on her own. She had had a good feel for plants and their uses. She had been able to remember instructions and memorize recipes quickly. Her mother had called it a natural blessing and had taken to teaching her everything.

Her father had doted on her. He had always taken a day to take her with him into the woods to check traps and to teach her about the woods and to help her find new plants. Her second oldest brother had taken to bringing her flowers from the woods for her to use the petals and pollen from. She had known it was his way of showing her affection because it was the same way her father showed affection to their mother. Her other siblings brought back gifts when they came home for visits. But it was her eldest brother that had always been her favorite and he had made it no secret she was his favorite. 

His stories of being on the Watch had always been a highlight of his visits and he would teach her new things. He had taught her about the stars and the stories behind the pictures they made. He had taught her about the stories surrounding their gods. He had taught her about the world beyond her small section of the forest. And he had always promised he’d have a place for her to live when she had grown up.

She snapped out of her thoughts as she felt the ship start to rock slightly to the left and then to the right. They had disconnected from the docks and were now floating free in the water. She was really leaving this doomed island. It was a startling realization. Soon she would be free of the gray toned world. It almost didn’t matter wherever she was being taken or who had pulled her from a slow death for whatever reason. For a fleeting moment, she felt a bubble of hope rise up in her chest. She was going to see color again.

Sometime later the door opened and one of the men came in with a small oil lamp and her dark room came sharply into focus. The walls were gray but her bunk was dark brown stained wood. The color was so rich that she wanted to drink in the sight of it. Her breeches were dark blue. Her shirt was white but she caught sight of her dark chestnut colored hair curling over it in beautiful contrast. Her skin was too pale but she would bet anything her blue-gray eyes would look vivid next to it. The man’s uniform was a rich purple shirt with black breeches and a light gray tunic with the royal insignia embroidered in gold. The arm band was light gray with a purple circle around a black dot.

If the man noticed she had been stunned by the sudden return of color to her world, he didn’t show it as he set down the lamp on the bunk across from her and then set down a tray laden with a bowl of soup, a spoon, two biscuits, and a cup of dark colored liquid. Then he left. She regarded the food cautiously, not because she thought it had been tampered with, but because she was worried how it would sit in her stomach after four years of tasteless small portions of unrecognizable food. She sipped at the liquid cautiously and flavor burst across her tongue and assaulted her taste buds. Her stomach turned slightly at the rich offering and then settled. She used the biscuits to soak up most of the soup to lessen the impact and then turned her attention to the cup. She discovered a half-remembered flavor of a treat from a memory: spiced grape juice. After she finished the meal, she laid back on the bunk to fall back into her memories.

When she reached the age of ten, her father had arranged for her to meet one of the wealthiest alchemists in Port Tythrenn to possibly take her on as an apprentice. She had accompanied her father and second oldest brother to the market in Port Tythrenn as an extra pair of hands and then had gone to meet with the alchemist under severe warnings to remain on her best behavior. She had gone, scrubbed clean and dressed in her best clothes with her eldest brother in his wonderful uniform as her escort. 

The alchemist had been a man in his early fifties. He had inspected her from head to toe and then had handed her over to his twenty-year-old son for testing of her knowledge. The son had given her orders to gather certain herbs and bring them to the work station while her brother, the older man, and his son all watched. She couldn’t read the markings that told everyone else what each powdered herb and root was, but she could tell by sight and scent what she was working with. She had quickly gathered what was needed and had gone to the work station to await instructions. She had been given a quick set of instructions and she had been able to follow them with ease. The older man had actually smiled at her and had started babbling about housing, proper clothing, and reading lessons.

As a celebration her oldest brother had taken her to have an early dinner at a big eating house and had bought her several cups of spiced grape juice as a treat. They had come across some of the other Watch and he had bragged about her. Then he had taken her back to her father and second oldest brother to tell them the good news. The four of them had decided it was best to thank the gods properly for all of the blessings that had come their way and had planned to visit the temples.

Her brothers and father had gone to the Temple of Solreth, the God of Law, Justice, Warriors, and the Sun. She had been given a small bouquet of flowers to leave at the Temple of Eiannae, the Goddess of Marriage, Fertility, Childbirth, Beauty, the Moon, and Healing. They were considered to be the greatest two of the gods. She had started to walk towards Eiannae’s Temple but her eyes had been drawn by a small path that none of the other temple goers seemed to notice. It was set with rounded fist sized stones that appeared to have once been painted a rainbow of colors. She felt something pulling her and she stepped onto the path and proceeded to follow it up.

At the top of the path she had found a small, pink sparkling stone building with an open archway for a door surrounded by overgrown flower bushes. The archway was crumbling but she stepped over the small pile of rubble to go inside. The inside was dark but she could make out an altar of the same pink sparkling stone at the back of the building surrounded by silk hangings that had faded in color and were fraying badly. The torch holders were empty. The only sign of which god this temple belonged to was a symbol carved into the stone of the altar. She had knelt in front of it and brushed the dust off to trace the eight arrows arranged to sit in a circle with their ends touching, letting the arrows point out equally distant in eight different directions. Her fingers had traced along the spiral at their center.

Feeling bad for the forgotten god she had withdrawn flowers from her bouquet and had placed them on the altar with a prayer for acceptance of her offering. When she had risen and had turned to go she had seen a beautiful purplish pink light fill the whole temple. Turning back to the altar she had seen an impossibly tall woman with skin as white and flawless as marble. Her eyes had been dark pink with silver pupils. Her plush lips had been purple. Her hair was long and silver but somehow in that silver was every color she had ever seen.

Outside she had heard her eldest brother calling her name, but she hadn’t been able to tear her eyes from the overly beautiful goddess in front of her.

“I accept your offering, little one,” her voice had sounded like a thousand voices twisted together. “In return I shall give you my most powerful Blessing.” The goddess had stepped away from the altar then and had knelt down in front of her. The cold white hands cupped her face and then the purple lips pressed over her brow. Thousands of needles of fire and ice had filled her then, overwhelming her small body as she had screamed in agony. Her vision flashed a hundred bursting colors at once. Then suddenly it had been dark and she had been gasping on the dust covered floor of the temple with her brother kneeling over her.

“We have to go,” he had told her. “Now!” She had heard the edge in his voice then and had understood this had been a bad thing. She had managed to get to her feet, and he had dragged her along behind him with a bone-crushing grip, not bothering to stop when she stumbled or had trouble gathering her footing. He had stopped at the Temple of Solreth and had pulled her inside. She had lost sight of him after he had let her go and she had sat there in the entrance of the temple feeling something like a fire burning inside of her gut. He had returned with her father, her second oldest brother, and a man dressed in white robes with a gold stole.

The man in the robes had put his hands on her shoulders then, bruising her where he held. She had turned to see her father and brothers leaving, not looking at her. She had tried to go after them but the man in the robes had held firm. She had started to scream for them and had twisted violently to escape that man’s too tight hold. She had called each of them by name, but they hadn’t turned around. She had cried helplessly as they had disappeared into the crowds and left her alone with the strange fire inside of her and the man in the white and gold robes.

The door to her room in the ship opened again and she looked up at the man as he came to collect the tray and the lamp. She realized she hadn’t said a single word to either man, and she didn’t plan to. Not speaking had saved her from countless injuries while imprisoned. With all of the unknowns in her current situation, she wasn’t about to press her luck by talking. The man said nothing to her as he collected the tray but left a pitcher of the juice by her empty cup. She was surprised but she didn’t let it show as he switched out the lamp for a very small stone that glimmered with light, a mage light. That was also surprising. It did little more than give off enough light that she could vaguely make out the chamber pot and the pitcher of juice, but it was a nice comfort. She doubted it was to give her any comfort. It was probably a precaution so she didn’t tip the juice over or miss the chamber pot on accident.

She stayed stretched out on the bunk listening to the water press against the wood next to her head and feeling the rocking motion of the ship. It was soothing in a way and she slowly let herself lull into sleep.


	3. Chapter 2

Her eyes flew open as she heard the echoes of her own ten-year-old screams for her father and her brothers in her dreams. It was her fault, she reasoned. She had opened the door to those memories and now they haunted her. She grimaced as she sat up and looked around. The mage stone gave off a faint enough glow that her eyes fell on the now ever-present pitcher of juice. She rose and carefully poured a cup while she willed away the sound still piercing her own heart.

She had been abandoned. It was that simple. Her doting father, her favorite oldest brother, and her wonderful second oldest brother had all abandoned her and had left her to the Temple of Solreth without a reason of why. In her heart she knew she’d never fully accept the fact they had all turned from her so easily. She had been a child and scared but they had left her. It had taught her an important lesson, the ties of love could be cut easily. Only she had seemed to have a hard time letting go of the love she had had for her family.

She felt a change in the motion of the boat and shifted to the head of her bunk by the wall. Yes, the waves were less now. She couldn’t hear them as clearly against the wood. And she heard the men shouting orders above her. Either the wind had suddenly dropped or they were coming into a harbor. She hoped it was the latter of the two options.

By her count she had been in this room for two weeks. She had been brought fourteen pitchers of juice and forty-two meals. Three meals a day. It was an excessive luxury she knew was already starting to affect her body. Her ribs protruded less now, and she felt a little more solid. And that was just off porridge, broth, and biscuits. She hoped they would keep feeding her so well though she supposed she might be able to make a little progress still on two meals a day.

The door to her room opened and she looked up at both men that had been her only contact on this ship. She still had not spoken a single word to either of them and they kept their dealings with her short and simple. They brought an oil lamp and set it down alongside a clean change of clothes. It settled in her mind that they were arriving somewhere. She hadn’t been brought clothes the entire trip. Her shackles were removed only long enough for her to change into another canvas shirt and more wool breeches. She was given a pair of leather slippers that were soft enough to feel like a second skin rather than a normal pinching pair of shoes.

To her surprise the shackles stayed off as the one of the men gripped her arm to pull her out into the hall. Between the two much larger men she walked down the hall and then up to the deck of the ship. She nearly stopped dead in her tracks when the sun hit her eyes. It was so beautiful after all of the time without it. It made the colors of the ship practically glow in her vision. Her eyes found the uniformed sailors as they bustled back and forth making final preparations before her eyes went up and out. There was nothing glorious to see in this harbor. There were more overly clean ships all neatly docked. Only a handful of ships flew colors other than the royal purple, silver, and gold and they were tucked at the furthest corner of the harbor. 

She wracked her memory of the maps she had once studied and the information she had once possessed. There were navy controlled harbors all over the coastline but only a few that held off duty navy ships like this one. There were green rolling hills bordering the harbor that cut off any view of what might lie beyond. She knew that towards the south, towards the capital there were such types of geography. The capital had been built back from the sea beyond the hills as a defense to flooding and invaders from the sea. Perhaps this was the Oleryn harbor then and the capital of Oleryn was half a day’s ride or a full day’s walk over the hills in front of her. It made sense that the capital was her destination with all of the few clues she had and perhaps she was to be brought to the palace with all of the royal insignias she saw floating around her. But beyond that speculation she couldn’t think of what was to become of her so she turned her thoughts to hoping they wouldn’t be walking the hills.

A carriage waited her at the bottom of the gangplank like she was some proper lady. She was shoved inside and followed by both men. They grumbled about the tight fit and having to ride in a carriage in the heat. She kept her eyes down to hide whatever amusement she felt. The two men were muscled enough that the narrow carriage had them touching shoulders and legs. She barely took up a fourth of her bench but neither of them appeared willing to sit next to her. Or perhaps they had jammed themselves in that neither of them could move to get to the more open space. She glanced at the men as she cautiously lifted a hand towards one of the curtained windows. They didn’t stop her, so she pushed the curtain back enough to allow in light and air as well as allow her to watch the outside of the carriage. After a minute or so she heard the crack of a whip and flinched but her sudden reaction had been covered by the carriage lurching and jerking into motion. 

The next several hours saw her dividing her attention between the outside world and the two men across from her. At every hill they climbed up, they had to dig in to keep from sliding forward and often ended up bumping into each other more. On every hill they went down, they thunked back against the front of the carriage. She had less troubles staying put on her seat, but she also wasn’t trying to avoid touching anyone either. It amused her to watch them but she masked her amusement with looking out the window.

After several hours they stopped and each of the men across from her took turns getting out and walking around though neither of them offered the opportunity to her. Then it was back into the carriage and another several hours of staring out the window watching rolling green hills pass her by.

By midafternoon they arrived at the wall surrounding the great capital of Dovania, Oleryn. It had been built on a massive hill so she could easily see the poorer sections at the bottom of the hill and the wall encircled massive palace at the top. Around the outside of the palace she could easily make out the glittering marble and gold temples that marked some sort of temple district. She held no liking for temples anymore.

They were not stopped at the gates to the city and she noticed the citizens of Oleryn moving out of the way of the carriage on the road quickly. Despite her looking out at them, they did not look up to see who was inside. This was a common thing then. Likely nobles came by carriage often enough that no one paid them any mind except to get out of the way. As they climbed up the hill, she noticed the clothing of the people change to the finer materials in brighter colors. She noticed the housing change from wood to brick and stone. At the temple district she closed the curtain and stared down at the floorboards. The men across from her said nothing about her sudden disinterest in the outside world. 

She glanced up at them to realize they were more relaxed. They were likely at the end of escorting her and would be returning to something familiar to them. She wished she was returning somewhere familiar and comforting. But it was unlikely she’d ever see the Forest Bryndall again.

The carriage lurched to a stop and the door opened before either man could touch the handle. One stepped out and the other gave her a meaningful nod towards the door. She knew she could either get out on her own or they would force her out. She decided on the easy path until she knew what was coming. She could prove to be a handful later if she didn’t like what was happening to her. 

Outside of the carriage she realized they were in a packed dirt area that was likely designed to accept carriages and incoming visitors though it was small enough that she guessed they didn’t get many all at the same time. The two men she had been with were now joined by more men in the same uniform. She was surrounded and walked out of the carriage yard into a side door to the palace. She glanced around at the combination of wood and stone that made up the walls of the palace and then around at the rugs and wall hangings that brought color to the plain hallways. Still no one spoke to her and she didn’t speak to them as they twisted through hall after hall only to stop abruptly at a door.

“You get half an hour to bathe and make yourself presentable. Don’t make us have to come in there after you.” One of her original men informed her. The door was opened, and she was shoved inside before the door was slammed shut behind her. In the room was a large tub filled with steaming water. She stripped quickly and eased into the hot water, marveling in the luxury of it all. Next to the bath was a tray of labeled vials and several different cakes of fine made soap. A pale green cake of soap that smelled sharply of mint was her choice. She glanced at the labels on the vials and chose two. One to clean her hair thoroughly and one to soften it to a silk like texture that would remove the tangles easily. Once she was clean, she found soft drying cloths that felt like clouds against her skin.

Clothes were a new problem. She had several choices laid out for her. There was a simple dress of light pink cotton and piles of skirts in various colors that she rejected immediately. She liked the secure feeling of breeches after the guards in Faserlaeh had proved dresses and skirts offered little protection from them. There were two sets of breeches, one in pale gray cotton and the other in dark blue silk. She glanced at the shirts and found much more variety in colors and fabrics. She chose the gray breeches and a sage green cotton shirt. She rejected the leather slippers she had worn since that morning and opted for the sturdier calf high black leather boots. Her hair she finger-combed and braided into one long braid that hung down between her shoulder blades. 

The half hour was marked by an insistent pounding on the door. She was as ready for whatever it was as she ever was going to be, so she opened the door and watched the group of men look her over before they turned to march her down even more halls. Finally, they arrived at a set of double doors she could feel a foreboding presence emanating from. They stood ten feet tall and seven feet wide. Both doors held the royal insignia carved into the wood and painted with silver and gold. The doors were pushed open.

Talking inside of the stone chamber ceased the moment the doors opened. The men around her walked inside and the doors closed. This room was large and open with high vaulted ceilings. She got the feeling it often held more than just a few people at the front of it. They stopped before a dais at the front of the room and she stared up at the man sitting on the elaborate golden throne. He was in his mid-fifties with red hair that was losing the battle to gray. His full beard was completely gray and neatly trimmed. Pale blue eyes observed them with keen interest. His clothes were of the best quality embroidered brocade and silks and his fingers were coated in gaudy golden and bejeweled rings. But it was the bejeweled golden crown on his head that held her attention. She was no doubt in the presence of the King of Dovania.

To either side of him stood two young men. One appeared to be in his mid-twenties with golden-red hair and light blue eyes. His build was similar to that of the men that stood around her. The other man appeared to be a few years younger. His hair was black and his eyes were so dark blue they almost looked black. His build was slimmer but she guessed he was no less capable. She took a guess that she was looking at the two princes of Dovania. 

There was a small scattering of other men near the dais but not on it. Their uniforms were different from the men that stood around her. They wore all black with purple tunics with gold and silver embroidered insignias. She guessed that they were the Royal Guard, the official protectors of the royal family and the palace. Her eldest brother long ago had mentioned that the goal of most men that trained for the Tythrenn Watch was to eventually get referred to the palace to become one of the elite Royal Guards. He had mentioned it was likely the goal of most unmarried men in any city watch.

“Ah yes, here she is,” the King drew her thoughts back in to focus on him. Her escort parted to allow a view of her. “The Chosen of the goddess Variel. I expected you to be more imposing after your history.” He leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees as he looked her over. She stared up at him. He knew her history then. He knew about the goddess and the Blessing.

“Bow to your King,” one of the men around her growled. For half a second she considered refusing to see what exactly would happen to her, but she let that thought go as she saw the Royal Guard shift ever so slightly towards the hilts of their swords. She didn’t glance at the man as she looked up at the King and gave a slight bend of the waist. “Deeper! Show him proper respect, scum!”

“Men, this is a God Blessed woman,” the King’s voice was amused but she also heard a hint of an order in there. No one touched her or forced her to bow lower. She did stay in her slight bow with her eyes on the marble floor. “Rise, Gwendolyn Wood, bearer of Variel’s Blessing.” Her eyes snapped up to him and the amusement on his face wasn’t veiled at all. “Ah, yes, I do know your name and who you are. Who do you think sent for you, dear Gwendolyn?” 

She stared up at him still surprised. Her name. She hadn’t heard her name since she had been ten, since she had last seen her family. Her name. It sounded odd in her ears and yet it resounded in her heart to hear it spoken.

“You brought the records of her?” King Alaric of Dovania turned to the men that had escorted her from Faserlaeh.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” they said in unison and bowed low.

“Destroy them,” the King’s voice sounded bored. “You and your men are dismissed.” There was a moment of bowing and then she was standing alone in front of the dais facing the King, his sons, and several members of the elite Royal Guard. “Did you like the bath? And I see you picked some sensible clothing. No silks for you, my dear?” He paused for her to answer but she stayed resolutely silent. She wouldn’t show her hand until he showed his. “Ah, not talking to me. I’ve heard rumors of your supposed intelligence. I thought it was perhaps peasant exaggeration.”

She relaxed her stance and forced her face to remain blank. This was his attempt to get her to speak. Questioning her intelligence simply because she was born a peasant. There were several ways to display intelligence. She could start talking and inform him just how much the rumors had been exaggerated or she could remain silent and continue waiting for him to show his hand.

“The strong silent type. You don’t see that in most women, do you boys?” He chuckled to his sons and to the guards. No one else joined in on his laugh. “What are you waiting for, Gwendolyn? I can see questions in your eyes. Why won’t you ask them?”

She allowed herself a small smile to show on her face. King Alaric was an intelligent man, a people reader. He knew by now that she wasn’t going to speak until she heard what she wanted to hear. She’d have to speak now but she didn’t have to answer his question the way he expected. He expected her to ask her questions. Instead she decided that she would answer him in the most direct and indirect way she could think of.

“You’ll get to the answers in your own time,” she managed. Her voice was surprisingly strong though she hadn’t used it in a long time.

“Ha! Do you hear that?” King Alaric laughed outright and looked to the men around him. Once again none of them laughed with him. He sobered after a moment and grinned down at her. “No doubt you are wondering why I have summoned you to my grand palace,” he waved a hand at the marble pillars, floor, and walls. “You have been unable to get the news of the kingdom, I suppose, or you’d already know since you are so intelligent.”

She straightened. Surely she got no news in Faserlaeh. The only news that came in was what each person had done to get sent there. What had gone on in Dovania that would have tipped her off to why she was here?

“I’m sure you were aware that my son, Prince Keiran, was also given a divine Blessing,” King Alaric nodded to the younger, darker son. 

She nodded confirmation. The whole of Dovania knew the prince had been Blessed by Alonox, the God of Night, Dreams, Illusions, and Imagination. Keiran shifted slightly as she glanced at him. He had been Blessed by Alonox on his eighteenth birthday when she had been at the Temple of Solreth. The temple district in Port Tythrenn had celebrated for nearly a week. 

“Three and a half years ago another Blessing took place. A young seventeen-year-old peasant in the fields with his father was struck by Solreth’s Light. By the time we heard of that particular Blessing another Blessing had already happened. Eiannae spoke to a young lady’s maid and Blessed her.” 

She stared up at the King. Blessings were rare. Extremely rare. The priests and priestesses had clamored about the Prince’s Blessing like it had been the gods themselves coming to dinner. The number of noted Blessings in all of their recorded history had been three up until that point excluding herself. Now that number was doubled.

“Two years ago, a scribe was struck with an illness and was dead for nearly an hour before his soul returned to his body with the Blessing of Orvanus.” The God of Death had bestowed a Blessing. “Two months after that we discovered Voleus had claimed his own chosen, a young jewel thief from right here in Oleryn.” The God of Tricksters, Thieves, and Performers had also made his own claim. The King had leaned forward on his forearms again. “What a surprise that all of the great gods share their Blessings with the young adults of this great Kingdom. I offered invitations out to all of the Blessed to visit the palace as my most honored guests. To live as their new status entitled them to.” He gave his youngest son a loving smile. 

“A year ago, your story came to my attention as I was going over the expenditures for the new Temple of Solreth that is still being built in Port Tythrenn. It occurred to me that I was paying for new marble to be cut, polished, and shipped when there should have been marble from the previous temple. I was informed that all that was left from the fire were the sundisks and the golden statue of Solreth. Everything else had been melted into useless junk. And I questioned the story that had been told: a careless young woman, a ward to the temple, had left a candle burning too close to the silk hangings and the temple had set on fire.” He chuckled at the absurd story. “So, I started to ask questions and found the young woman had been a fourteen-year-old peasant that had been a ward of the Temple of Solreth for four years. Simple enough. But it was where you went after that intrigued me. Why send a careless young woman to such a place?”

She realized he was avoiding saying where she had been. Did he hate the name of the place as much as she did? Or was he avoiding mentioning the location of her whereabouts for the past four years because he wanted it kept quiet? It seemed likely it was the second option as he had ordered her records to be destroyed only minutes before.

“The Goddess Variel, the Goddess of Chaos, had Blessed a girl child three years before my own son had been Blessed. The true first Blessing in Our kingdom in over a century.” He smoothed his beard. “It occurred to me you weren’t in a position to respond to a formal invitation to impose on my hospitality. I had hoped you would be more open to talking with me upon your arrival especially after I went through such lengths to make you comfortable.” He gave her a fatherly smile as he nodded to her attire. She bit back a glare. She wanted to see how open he was to talking after such a summons.

“Your invitation came in the form of soldiers.” She heard the words leave her mouth as she folded her hands in front of her. She hadn’t meant to speak, but now that her mouth had betrayed her, she decided it was best to keep going. In for a copper in for the gold. “I was shackled to a bunk in the belly of a ship for two weeks. I wasn’t told anything of our destination, why I was being sent for, or what the nature of my escort was.”

“You were allowed a bath, fresh clothes, and meals,” the older of the two princes spoke up.

“I bathed in salt water with open wounds under the watch of the soldiers sent to retrieve me. I do admit I was given one set of clothing and food on the ship. But since we docked this morning, I haven’t been given anything to eat despite the very nice bath and choice of clothing. You can understand why I’m not exactly believing of your hospitality,” she kept her eyes on King Alaric’s. “In my small amount of experience, the few kindnesses given upon entering the palace appear to be some way to soften me up, but you expected me to forget the past two weeks of treatment.”

“I can see you don’t soften easily,” the King waved at his Royal Guard. One of the men stepped towards her. She noted his purple armband with a gold star. The man reached into his tunic. Immediately her mind called forth the images of the guards of Faserlaeh that carried the batons tucked inside of their tunics when they wanted the element of surprise. 

She had stepped out of line by pointing out the flaws in their thinking. They were going to soften her up the way she knew best. She flinched as guard removed a cylindrical shaped object from his tunic. 

“I’ve been informed you received instruction in your letters and can read. Was that information incorrect?” She looked up at the object and then at the King and fought a blush. It was a scroll, not a lead weighted baton. She expected the King to have laughed at her, but his eyes were on the scroll. “Can you read, Gwendolyn?”

“Yes,” she whispered reaching for the scroll to take it from the guard’s grasp. As soon as she had the heavy parchment in her hands he stepped back.

“I figured you might like the terms of my offer plain and simple,” King Alaric waved at the scroll. “Go ahead. We can wait.”

She slipped a fingernail under the purple wax seal and popped it open. Her eyes scanned what appeared to be a very formal invitation. It invited her to make her home at the palace as an honored guest of the royal family and detailed what appeared to be a royal pardon for her crimes, living quarters at the palace, furniture for those quarters, an allowance of a generous amount, a full wardrobe to be added to as necessary, and apparently a guard detail for her protection but there appeared to be no conditions listed.

“Please forgive my confusion,” she said finally as she rolled up the scroll. “I still don’t understand the point of this,” she nodded to the scroll.

“I’ll make this as simple as possible. The Blessed have all been given this offer. As you are one of the God Blessed, I have extended this offer to you. Unless you have somewhere else to go…” he let the words drift into the air. He damn well already knew that she had nowhere to go. He was probably banking on that for her to accept his offer.

“If I accept this,” she waved the scroll. “If I accept, am I able to pursue my own interests and leave at my will?”

“You will be able to pursue your own interests, in fact, I encourage it. And should you find something to interest you outside of the capital, you’re welcome to go but I’ll insist your guard accompany you in order to deter any attacks on your person. Once your status is known you’ll be a curiosity at least.”

The offer sounded too good to be possible. There had to be conditions. There had to be strings attached. What could he possibly want from her for all the generous giving he was about to do for her? Was it worth it to accept the offer without knowing what he would ask for down the line? She glanced up at Prince Keiran and suddenly his eyes met and held hers. A question seemed to come from outside of her. Was this offer really worse than where she had been? The answer to that was ‘no’.

“I accept your offer, Your Majesty.” She tapped the scroll against her arm. “I expect that I’ll be receiving far better treatment than the past couple of weeks in your hospitality.”

“Naturally. I think we shall start by remedying the fact you have not eaten yet today, My Dear.” He stood. “Prince Daric will be in charge of assigning your guard detail and having your suite readied.” He nodded to the older of his two sons.

Prince Daric stepped down off the dais and bowed low to her. “My Lady, shall we?” He offered his arm. She looked at it but kept her hands folded in front of her.

“Traditionally, the lady takes a gentleman’s arm to be escorted,” she found Keiran at her side. She glanced up to see that the King had already gone.

“You and I both know I am no lady.”

“Your Blessing entitles you to an honorary title and status,” Keiran shrugged. “But I can see where you might want to walk unescorted.” 

She glanced at Daric to see him stand clearly unoffended by her rejection. He gave her a charming smile. “Shall we find you dinner?”


	4. Chapter 3

Gwendolyn, or as she preferred, Gwen, sat in the middle of her bed listening to the temporary guards shift by the door. Prince Daric had assured her that he would be assigning her a permanent set of guards, but it would take a few days for him to decide which squad best suited her needs. It wasn’t the guards standing on either side of the open doorway that kept her awake. It was the bed and the room itself. Her bed was larger than her cell in Faserlaeh, far too soft, and too cluttered with pillows and feather stuffed blankets that smelled strange. And the bed curtains that surrounded the massive bed did little to stop her from remembering that the bedroom beyond their veiling was too large and empty.

There was certainly furniture to fill the space. There was a bookshelf packed full of books, a vanity and stool made of beautiful silver, several armchairs around a fireplace, two bedside tables, and several full-length mirrors in case she desired to see herself at any given time. 

And it wasn’t just the bedroom that was too big. There were four doors that led off of this room alone. One led to a marble privy with a much too large tub half sunken into the floor. Another door led to a dressing room that was nearly as large as the privy. The third door led to a room with two thin small cots with a washbasin, two trunks, and a small mirror. She had been informed by Prince Daric that it had been intended as a servant quarters. And she was welcome to hire servants though she didn’t see a need for them. The last door led to the sitting and dining room that made up the entrance to her suite. That door was the door her guards were standing in front of her.

Gwen sat up and pulled back the curtain. She couldn’t sleep in this bed. She couldn’t sleep in this room. As she pulled her body to the edge of the bed, she felt the skirt of the nightgown she had worn to bed ride up her legs. She glared down at the fabric. She could fix all of these issues, but she also knew she would be breaking some sort of class protocol in doing such. But as she had pointed out to Prince Keiran earlier, she wasn’t a lady and she really didn’t feel like she had to act like one in the privacy of her own rooms. 

She climbed out of the bed and disappeared into her dark dressing room. She picked out a soft pair of breeches and a light shirt. When she came back out, she pulled one of the stiffer pillows from the bed and carried it into the servant quarters. The much smaller space and the harder beds were far more to her taste. After she settled on one of the beds, she looked up at the door to find the guards had moved to stand outside of that door instead though they said nothing to her or to each other about it. Despite the guards, she felt much more at ease and allowed herself to sleep.

She was awake before the sun despite her late-night move to the servant quarters. She was dressed and reading long before breakfast arrived and with it came Prince Keiran and a large muscular young man with tanned skin, golden blonde hair, and golden-brown eyes.

“I thought you might want to meet Gavril. He’s Solreth’s Chosen,” Prince Keiran explained when she tilted her head almost all the way back up at the large man. He stood a head and shoulders above her and was three times her width in solid muscle. But he moved with a grace that she found herself envying. “Gavril came to the palace from being a peasant as well. I thought he might help you find your way a bit better than Daric.”

“Or Keiran here is an excellent companion when he isn’t playing Prince,” Gavril informed her. His baritone voice was warm, but she found herself expecting nothing less from the Sun Blessed.

“Shall we eat?” Prince Keiran nodded to the table where servants had set up three trays.

“How did you sleep?” Gavril asked when she sat down. She looked up at him wondering how much she could talk to him. Perhaps he had been born a peasant, but he was Solreth’s Chosen and her exact opposite when it came to Blessings. Her goddess was chaos and disorder. His god was order and law. And she had burned down his god’s temple. Surely that might make them enemies. “When I first got to the palace I slept on the floor for a month before I got somewhat used to the bed. For nearly a year I often ended up on the floor.”

“Did you find the bed comfortable?” Prince Keiran turned to her.

“I found the beds in the servant quarters much more to my liking, your Highness,” she said finally.

“It’s Keiran. When it comes to the other Blessed, I don’t have a rank,” he informed her between bites of sausage and eggs.

“That’s ingenious using the servant quarters. I didn’t think of that though I probably would have had to push the cots together to make a large enough bed. And then they probably would have collapsed under my weight so I would have ended up on the floor either way.” Gavril let out a deep laugh. 

“Forgive my question,” Gwen felt her curiosity get the better of her. “Were you this large before your Blessing?” Gavril laughed outright while Keiran let out an undignified guffaw.

“I did a lot of training after the Blessing which added muscle, but I was always had a large build. My neighbors always offered their pity on my poor mother.” His sunny smile was boyish and catching, and she found a smile forming on her own face despite her reservations.

“Do you still see your family?” She found herself curious. Had she been the only one to have been abandoned by her family at the first moments of the Blessing?

“I visit my parents when I can. My little sister died of an illness long before I ever crossed paths with Solreth.” A sad look crossed his face like a cloud. “But I have more than enough siblings now. And you’re the newest to our family though you’re actually the first of us.”

“Family?” She asked looking between Keiran and Gavril.

“Like the gods are siblings, we are a family,” Keiran informed her. “Siblings in power.”

“Except Edith. Edith is more of a cousin,” Gavril informed her straight faced.

“Edith?” She asked.

“Voleus’ Chosen. Trickster Blessed,” Keiran filled in for her. Gwen thought about it. To be Blessed by the god of pranks, thieves, and deception could be closer to a Blessing from Variel. But it seemed unlikely that anyone else viewed their Blessing as a curse like she did.

“But I’m glad to have another sister,” Gavril grinned at her. “I’m going to give you the tour of this monstrosity you are to call home when we’re done with breakfast.” She reached across her plate for her cup of juice and suddenly her wrist was caught in Gavril’s overly large hand. His thumb traced over the thick, ruined, white flesh that encompassed both of her wrists. “Those look bad.”

“I plan to cover them somehow,” she withdrew her wrists. “I assume I’m to forget my past,” she glanced at Keiran for confirmation.

“My father would like you to forget your past. I’d say don’t forget but don’t give that information away.” Keiran sighed. “Perhaps we could get you bracelets for you to wear over the marks.”

“They’d have to be at least an inch wide to fully cover those scars,” Gavril informed her. “But bracelets will be a good idea. You won’t want to wear long sleeves all of the time. You always chance the sleeves riding up and then there’s the insufferable heat in the summer months.”

“I’ll make sure you have options to cover them. How about other scars?” Keiran asked.

“We won’t have to worry about those. My clothes cover them just fine,” Gwen sighed.

“What about gowns? You’ll want to wear a ball gown to the Yule celebrations,” Gavril stood and walked around the back side of her. “May I?” He plucked at back of the neckline of her shirt.

“I don’t think I’ll wear a gown. I’m finding I prefer to have myself covered.” She said as she nodded approval for Gavril to pull her collar away to peer down her back.

“If you change your mind you can wear a high-necked jacket or we can have gowns made that cover up to your shoulders,” Gavril laid her shirt back against her skin and smoothed it down. “Finish eating, and then I’ll show you around.”

Ten minutes later she was out the door keeping up a brisk walk to match Gavril’s long steps. The palace, he explained, was one main building with many additions and attached buildings connected on. He showed her the portrait galleries, the larger libraries, the grand ballroom, the dining hall that most of court ate in that she was welcome to go to for her meals, briefly pointed out the throne room she had been in the day before, and then took her outside to tour the gardens.

For the first few minutes of walking through the gardens, she restrained until Gavril informed her that Variel was known to love flowers because of their vibrant colors and that he was surprised she only had a mild interest. She took the hint she could be less restrained. For the next two hours she went from garden to garden, from flower to flower stroking petals, smelling the fragrances, and marveling over colors. She caught herself grinning up at Gavril more than once when he teased her.

“Alright, you might like flowers more than Variel,” he admitted when she finally withdrew from the plants.

“I was to be an alchemist,” she explained hoping that it made more sense that she had a love of plants beyond the interests of her goddess. “I was accepted as an apprentice the day I was Blessed,” she looked up at him and saw him frown.

“What happened?”

“Variel happened,” Gwen sighed. “It’s not really a day I like to talk about,” she cut him off when he opened his mouth to ask more.

“You don’t like to talk about your Blessing?” His frown deepened.

“I lost everything I every valued the moment Variel’s Blessing touched me,” she informed him. “So, no, I don’t like talking about it.”

“You asked about my family. What about yours? Do you see them much?” He asked as he led the way out of the gardens.

“I don’t have a family,” she pulled away from him.

“There has to be family somewhere. Your surname is Wood. I met a sergeant in the Tythrenn Watch with that surname. You two share some similar physical traits and the Forest Bryndall where you hail from is close to there. Perhaps he’s a cousin you were unaware of. He’s a good man. Someone I wouldn’t be ashamed to discover was my long-lost cousin, and he’s got a whole slew of siblings living in Port Tythrenn that could be more cousins.”

“I don’t have family,” she bit off the words. Gavril stopped dead in his tracks and looked her over more thoroughly, a thoughtful look in his eye.

“Alright,” he offered his arm to her and dropped the subject. “It’s midday. Would you like to go to the dining hall to eat? Or would you rather disappear into your rooms? Or we can go to the barracks, they always like when I bring girls…” he must have felt her tense because he shook his head. “I’m just full of all the wrong things to say to you. I have an idea. Let’s go to the kitchens and I’ll show you who to charm for extra treats.” He threaded her arm through his and moved her along. “I know what it’s like to miss meals so don’t hesitate to tell me when you are hungry. We’ll feed you up and you’ll stop looking like a skeleton in no time.”

They were halfway through their midday when a new question dawned on Gwen. “Do you have a guard detail?” She asked Gavril.

“Yes,” he grinned. “I don’t need them, and they know it, but they stand guard in my room at night, and accompany when I leave the palace, and at the big public royal events.” He shrugged. “You’ll see yours more until you can prove you don’t need them either.”

“Have the other Blessed proven they don’t need guards?” Gwen toyed with the food on her plate.

“Keiran did away with his by royal command. Ameia, that’s Eiannae’s Chosen, she likes having her guards around. She uses them as constant companions. Paxton, Orvanus’ Chosen, scares enough people that his guards stopped being needed for more than just the outings and big stuff. And Edith… Edith still has her guards, but she eludes them. It’s her favorite game.”

“Any words of advice you can think of?” She set her fork down.

“Keiran gave me a few good words of advice when I first came to the palace. First, you don’t have to try and fit in with anyone. Your Blessing entitles you to pretty much do whatever you want. You can dress how you want. You can break social protocols. And you can pretty much ask for whatever you want and get it. I try to avoid doing the last one too much.” He shrugged. “As for advice with your guards, they are there to protect you. Talk to them. Get to know them and give them a reason to want to protect you besides their orders and their wages. You don’t have to be charming, just be open.” He patted her hand.

After midday they walked outside again so Gavril could point out the stables, the practice yards, the outside of the barracks, and then up on the walls. He walked her around the outside of the walls for her to see the city. Then finally he admitted he had nothing else of interest to show her, so he walked her back to her suite. She stopped outside of the door and tilted her head at the new carving that hadn’t been there before. It was the eight-arrow circle with the spiral at the center: Variel’s symbol.

“Normal people get name plaques next to their doors,” Gavril informed her. “We Chosen get carvings of the symbols of our gods.” He pushed her door open a crack but held her back the moment they heard voices inside.

“I have a right to know why you are doing this! My men have a right to know why you are doing this to us!” A deeper male voice was raised in her suite.

“It’s a royal order, Damon,” she already recognized Prince Daric’s voice.

“My men were trained, I was _trained_ , to be your _personal_ guard,” the deeper voice retorted. “You hand selected all of us!”

“And now I’m assigning you to Variel’s Chosen,” Prince Daric responded in such a matter-of-fact tone she half wondered if he knew that this appeared to be an argument.

“We’re your friends, your companions, and you’re just tossing us to mind a simple peasant girl because she claims a god looked at her funny?” The voice that belonged to the man called Damon raised even more.

“She didn’t claim to be Variel’s Chosen. It’s been documented and noted. The matter is closed. I’ve assigned you as her Sergeant and your men as her detail.” She heard Prince Daric’s voice coming closer.

“I’m not watching a stupid peasant that is milking you for all you’re worth!” Damon shouted.

“You will guard her, and that is my final command,” Prince Daric’s voice was quiet, but firm. She almost believed he had no doubt that he would be obeyed. Gavril waited a moment and then pushed the door open further and stepped inside first before taking her arm and bringing her in. “Ah, Gwendolyn, how did you enjoy your day? Keiran said you had a tour of the palace. Did you find it to your liking?” Prince Daric approached her with his face composed into a smile. If she hadn’t heard him talking back to this Damon she wouldn’t have been able to tell he was in her suite for more than just a casual inquiry.

“It’s very beautiful,” she caught sight of the other man in the room glaring at her over Prince Daric’s shoulder and she dropped her gaze to the floor.

“Keiran had a trunk delivered up here earlier for you. He wouldn’t tell me what it was but said to tell you to call it a good faith gift from your new brother.” Prince Daric smiled at her. “And I should introduce you to the man I’ve entrusted your care to.” He turned so she would have a clear view of a man in the Royal Guard’s uniform with a silver dot rimmed in gold on his purple armband. “This is Sergeant Damon from the Royal Guard. He and his are the best of the best which I thought might help since your goddess isn’t exactly the worshipper attracting type.” He gave her a smile to invite her to share the joke, but she couldn’t find it funny that she might have enemies because Variel was unpopular. “He should be ready to discuss the details of the arrangement with you and his men before you retire for the night. Now I’m afraid I must run. I’m late for a meeting.” He turned and left the room.

“You should count yourself lucky, Gwen,” Gavril informed her, his voice kind. “Sergeant Damon is notably one of the best. He’s an excellent swordsman. I spar with him from time to time when I’m in a mind to lose.” She guessed that Gavril was saying it more for Sergeant Damon’s benefit than for her own.

She refused to look up from the floor. This man didn’t want to be her guard and he had been ordered to be there by his sovereign. This was something bad brewing from the start. It would come to a head sooner or later and it would likely hurt her more than it hurt anyone else.

“Why don’t you go look at what Keiran sent?” Gavril nudged her arm when he seemed to realize his attempts were failing. She nodded and gave wide berth to the man in her sitting room to duck into the bedroom to locate the trunk. She knew Gavril was probably attempting to keep his voice down, but it carried straight back to her. “Try to not look like this is going to kill you. Better yet, try to not look at her like she’s your enemy. She’s already got enough to worry about without worrying that her guards are going to be negligent or turn on her.”

There was a moment of silence and then, “Tell her I’ll be back after dinner with my men.” 

After the door closed marking his exit, she managed to find the trunk Keiran had sent up and opened the lid. Inside were bracelets of every kind she had ever seen. All were wide enough to cover the scars and they covered a variety of colors and material types so she could match bracelets to practically any outfit.

“I take it you heard him say he’d be back,” Gavril leaned on the doorframe. She nodded confirmation as she began to organize the entire trunk of bracelets so she might find matching ones if she wanted. “You might need to understand that he’s Prince Daric’s best friend. They are practically brothers. And when Daric came of age his father allowed him to hand pick the men that would guard him. He picked Damon as his sergeant and some of the best men from the Royal Guard to be under him. All Royal Guards receive training in defense and protection of the royal family, but Damon and his men were pushed a little harder to be the best.”

“Why is he assigning them to me then?” Gwen asked looking up at Gavril. Why would the Crowned Prince assign his personal guard detail, the best guard detail, to a peasant with an unpopular goddess’ name attached to hers?

“I honestly can’t think of a reason.” He sighed. “Would you like me to be here when he comes back? He and his men might be more likely to show proper respect if I’m with you.”

She blinked up at him somewhat surprised. He was offering to be there to protect her in some sort of fashion. She was almost half tempted to take him up on the offer but then she knew she wouldn’t find out what sort of men were assigned to her. It was her experience that true natures came out in several ways. One of those ways was when a person was faced with something they didn’t want to do. The others included when someone was given free reign with no consequences and when faced with something that terrified them. They would watch themselves around Gavril. And they might have been good companions to Prince Daric, their future King, but how much of that was a show?

“I should face them alone,” she admitted finally. “They need to see that I don’t need someone else to fight my battles. Not that I don’t appreciate the offer,” she caught his smile.

“You’re a sharp thinker. I think you’ll do fine without me. I’m going to leave you to your bracelets and please come and find me if you need a friend after all of this nonsense tonight. My room is in the barracks. You’ll know it by the giant sun carved on the door.” He rolled his eyes and then left as well.

A few hours later she sat on her bed in the servant quarters reading one of the books from her bookshelf when she heard a loud knock on the main door of her suite and then heard it open. “Lady Gwendolyn,” she heard Sergeant Damon’s voice call from the sitting room.

She frowned. Only a few hours before he had called her a peasant trying to milk the Prince for all he was worth now he was calling her by a noble’s title. She marked her page, set her book aside, and adjusted the bracelets she had decided to be her normal everyday bracelets. They were soft leather bands that snapped in place and were free of design. Once she was sure her scars were covered, she stepped out of the servant quarters and came face to face with the man she had refused to look at earlier.

Sergeant Damon was likely the same age as Prince Daric. His hair was dark brown, cropped a couple inches from his scalp, and was combed neatly. His eyes were a strange silvery green and narrowed as he seemed to be giving her the same look over. His skin was tanned, telling her that he had spent time in sun normally. He was broad shouldered, a head taller than her at just over six feet in height, and he had a solid muscular build. She saw his mouth pull into a thin line as his strong jaw tightened. Whatever he was learning about her by looking her over, he very likely didn’t like it.

“My men are waiting,” he told her finally. She said nothing as he led her out to the sitting room where nine other men stood dressed in their uniforms all looking at the floor rather than up at her. “Please have a seat.” He nodded to one of the chairs.

She looked up at the men again and realized they were likely going to stand there for the whole meeting. There was hardly enough seating for all of them. She adjusted her stance, so she’d be more comfortable standing for however long this meeting took. If the men weren’t going to sit, then she wouldn’t. She did not want them standing over her more than all of them already did. 

“Have it your way,” she heard Sergeant Damon grumble. “Men, this is Lady Gwendolyn she is our new charge assigned to us by His Highness, the Crowned Prince Daric of Moardwyn of Dovania.” She saw the men glance up at her with resentment written all over their faces and then back down at the floor. “Lady Gwendolyn is the Chosen of the Goddess Variel.” Sergeant Damon added. “We shall arrange shifts so that there are always two guards in your suite, Lady Gwendolyn, to keep it safe from threats. You will always have an escort when you leave your room. You will have a full escort whenever you leave the palace grounds. They will not be a source of male companionship in the bedroom. You will not flirt with them. You will not attempt to seduce them.”

She looked up at him with a glare of her own at the suggestion she would attempt to seduce one of the men assigned to her. He gave her a smirk and she quickly realized he likely interpreted her glare as her being upset because she had planned to seduce them. He’d learn otherwise soon enough. She returned her eyes to the same floor the men stared at intently.

“If I discover any indecencies are taking place, the man will be removed from the Royal Guard and you will find I will be far less than accommodating should I have to release one of my men from their duties.” So, he couldn’t actually hand out real consequences to her, but he could try and make her miserable. “My men are not servants. They will not attend to you or clean up after you. They will not write letters for you. They will not read messages for you. They will not run messages for you. Do I make myself clear?”

She had heard those words before from the priests of the Temple of Solreth in Tythrenn after she had made mistakes and right before she had been about to be punished. She had also heard those words before in the same tone from the guards at Faserlaeh when they were about to make someone’s life more of a misery either by beating or by pulling them into a dark corner to satisfy themselves.

“Do I make myself clear?” His voice was louder, and each word was enunciated as if she were truly simple.

“Perfectly,” she allowed herself one word before turning on her heel and walking back into her bedroom. In the sitting room she heard Sergeant Damon talking much quieter to his men about schedules and who would be staying behind when the others left to take the first watch in her room overnight. She gathered her night clothes from the dressing room, a robe to cover them in the morning, and then retreated to the servant quarters once more. She closed the door and sat down hard on the bed.

She’d have to live with these guards. She’d have to live with Sergeant Damon. There seemed to be no way around it. As she laid back on the bed with her book, she ran her fingers down the leather binding. There had been a time when she had believed guards were good people. Her most beloved oldest brother had been a guard of sorts and she had always believed the best of him. And yet, he had soured her view of the good in guards long ago. Did the training leech compassion from them? Or did being a guard just unveil what was already there?

Gavril had mentioned her brother earlier that day. He had been promoted to sergeant. That was a good rank with a better salary. He had probably worked hard. He had probably brought in a lot of criminals to face justice. Criminals like his little sister. She hated to think he had been promoted for that, but a mass murderer and terrorist being brought in without a fight was likely the capture of a lifetime and one worthy of promotion. 

She stopped fingering the title of the book and flipped it open to her marked page to distract herself. The heading of the chapter read ‘Law Above All Else’. This was a book of scriptures for Solreth. If she didn’t want to be reminded of guards or her brother’s betrayal she had picked the wrong book but she also didn’t want to go back out into the actual bedroom to get a different book while she could still hear Sergeant Damon talking out in the sitting room. She flipped open to the next chapter and read the heading ‘Loyalty to the Law’. She growled and threw the book at the wall. It hit with a resounding thud and then hit the floor in a clatter of pages.

Immediately there were rushed footsteps outside of her door and it was thrown back hard enough that it smacked into the wall making far more noise than she had.

“Yes?” She demanded when she saw Sergeant Damon standing there with his sword drawn.

“What happened?” He demanded with a glance around the room. From where he stood the book was completely out of sight.

“Nothing of importance,” she shrugged and said nothing more. After another moment he turned to look at her fully.

“There are to be no visitors that are not approved by me. If you have someone in this room…” his tone held the warning.

“Go ahead and check under the beds,” she pushed herself off the bed and went to scoop up the book from the floor. He would have to approve of every person to visit her. While it was a short list of three people that might visit her, it meant he held the control and a good way to punish her if he felt he was being abused by his sovereign. As the sergeant of her guard he could justify it by saying he was keeping her best interests of safety in mind.

He eyed the book as she pushed by him out to the bedroom. Since he had already invaded her room, she supposed she could go exchange the book for one that might actually interest and distract her. She set the book of scriptures back in its spot and located the only book of botany on the shelf. Plants would distract her, they always did. After a moment Sergeant Damon rounded on her at her bookshelf.

“You can’t just go making racket. Your guards won’t be able to tell if you are actually being attacked or not if you keep that up,” he ripped her book from her hands. “If you make unnecessary noise again, I’ll confiscate it all,” he growled and took the book with him as he stormed away. “You know where you all are supposed to be!” He shouted at his men. Most of them left but two took up posts by the main door. 

She was still staring down at her hands where the book had been. Now she was certain that there was no way in which there were good guards. They didn’t exist. They were all bullies looking for a way to power over others. She felt the flickering candle of her power rise up to meet her anger. She squashed it back down with the urge to cry of frustration. Just like her days at Faserlaeh she would give them no reasons to look her way. Leaving the bookshelf behind she went back to the servant quarters and closed the door softly as to not create any unnecessary noise.


	5. Chapter 4

“Lady Gwendolyn? Are you alright?” One of the guards had come to the door of the privy and called into her.

“Is there a reason I wouldn’t be?” She asked as she turned the tap to allow hot water to fill the tub.

“It’s two hours until dawn. You barely fell asleep three hours ago,” he called in. She hitched the dressing robe tighter and went to the door and opened it to look up at the man.

“These are the hours I keep,” she informed him. “Unless there are rules on that as well. Perhaps a mandatory amount of time I shall remain lying on the bed each night?” She hadn’t slept well. It had been a mixture of nightmares of Sergeant Damon, the guards of Faserlaeh, and her eldest brother all taking turns with the whip as a display to the other Blessed. The bad sleep had made her forget her plan to be quiet and avoid the guards completely. But she hadn’t lied. She didn’t sleep all that long each night.

“No, My Lady,” he took a step back. “Do you require anything?”

“I do not require protection from the bath, thank you,” she stepped back into the privy and closed the door and frowned at it. That guard had already asked if she required anything and that, in itself, would have broken a rule should she have required anything other than a guard. She wouldn’t forget the rules. She wouldn’t slip even if the guards tried to tempt her.

She stomped, albeit quietly, over to the cabinet next to the bath and picked out several vials after reading their labels. To her bath she added the scents of lemon balm and lavender. It was a hope that they would help her to refresh her mind and calm her temper and thus her power.

She focused on the breathing, a technique she had been taught at the Temple of Solreth by her reading and writing instructor. He had been her favorite because he never told when her power slipped away from her control. Instead he helped her find ways to stabilize herself so that she could have control of herself. He had been dismissed from the temple only six months before she had burned it down. The High Priest had accused him of sullying himself with her since he obviously enjoyed teaching her a little too much. She was grateful, now, that he hadn’t been there when it had burned.

She caught herself slipping into the memory and mentally scolded herself. Memories would only make her power more unstable. She didn’t have any good memories to draw on anymore. They all led back to something that would unsettle her. Instead she closed her eyes and let her mind refocus on the scent of the herbs in her bath. She imagined drawing the lavender into herself and infusing her being with it. She imagined the lemon balm wrapping around her being to energize her throughout the day. After a while she had calmed considerable and felt well enough to wash her hair and drain the tub.

Her guards stared at her as she entered the sitting room with a book in hand but neither said anything as she flicked through the pages and began to read a history of a kingdom long buried. She didn’t often enjoy reading histories, but it was better than the law books that made up half of her shelf. The book she really wanted was the botany book that was currently residing wherever Sergeant Damon had taken it.

The door opening pulled her from a long list of battles which had led to revolution in that kingdom her book was about. She spared a small glance towards the door where Sergeant Damon was standing with two more guards and the night guards were whispering frantically. Her eyes drifted back down to the book, but she didn’t start to read again. It was her experience that no one ever believed someone could read and listen at the same time.

“She’s been up for three hours already,” one of the night guards whispered. “And she was awake until after midnight.”

“Did she talk to you?” Sergeant Damon asked, his voice low.

“No more than to answer when I asked if anything was wrong. I think she’s a bit put off by yesterday,” came the quiet response. “You were a bit harsh.”

“She needs to learn what the rules are and subtly isn’t a peasant’s language,” the sergeant informed his men. She heard no responses and guessed that even if his men disagreed with him, they wouldn’t voice their opinions against his views now. “Lady Gwendolyn,” Sergeant Damon’s voice was louder to address her. “I’m to escort you to breakfast.”

Gwen didn’t ask why she was being escorted to breakfast when she had been allowed to eat in her room the day before. She didn’t ask where he was to escort her to. She simply put the page marker in place, rose from the chair she had been in, and set the book down on the small table in front of her before folding her hands in front of her body to wait until he started to lead. She didn’t verbally acknowledge him at all. As far as she was concerned, he would likely consider her voice and any questions she might have as unnecessary noise. Silence was safer. 

He seemed to realize she was waiting for him, so he offered her his arm. She looked at it, somewhat appalled, but kept the feeling from her features. She was not going to take his arm or touch him if she could help it. He let out a low growl of frustration before he forcefully grabbed her forearm and pulled her arm through his. He kept a tight hold of her arm as he dragged her out the door at a brisk pace. 

He said nothing to her as they walked through hallway after hallway. She kept her mind on her feet as she tried not to stumble, fully convinced he would just drag her if she lost her footing. He stopped abruptly outside of a door carved with constellations, gave three hard knocks, and then pushed the door open, not waiting for an answer.

“Ah Gwen! I see you accepted my breakfast invitation,” Keiran stood to greet her. His room looked very much like her own except it held more decorations and personal items. Gavril was sitting at the table already with a laden plate in front of him. She did not miss that Keiran had said it was an invitation not an order. Somehow she was certain he hadn’t ordered her to be brought there forcibly or at all had she decided on a private breakfast.

“You look refreshed,” Gavril pulled out the chair next to him and patted it. “Did you finally get some sleep?”

“My guards informed me I slept for three whole hours,” Gwen kept her voice soft. Sergeant Damon was still in the room and perhaps he was still operating under the unnecessary noise rule even if she was in the company of Keiran and Gavril. And to not answer them would have been far too rude.

“And is three hours normal for you?” Keiran asked as he put a covered plate in front of her.

“For now. I assume I’ll adjust to regular sleeping patterns slowly. Until then, I am catching up on my reading.” She turned her attention to the food in front of her, but could only pick at it.

“Perhaps you’d like to visit the gardens again today,” Gavril touched her arm softly to get her attention. Then he frowned and gently turned her arm so he could examine the bruises that were showing on the forearm Sergeant Damon had taken a hold of to drag her to this breakfast. “These weren’t there yesterday and they look very fresh.”

She knew she could tell Gavril that it had been Sergeant Damon’s doing. She knew enough about Gavril to know he would likely make the man regret his treatment of her. She knew enough about Keiran that he would likely put his royal orders out to spare her future problems. And she guessed enough about Sergeant Damon to know any of that would make her problems with him worse. If he was paying any attention, he might keep his treatment a little less rough to simply avoid future questions.

“It was a silly accident,” she told Gavril. “I dropped a book on the floor last night and banged my arm on the trunk at the foot of the bed trying to pick it up. Apparently, I made quite a racket.” She pulled her arm back from his hold. She knew the bruises looked nothing like what she claimed happened, but mercifully, Gavril seemed to accept the information.

“I see you discovered the gift I left for you yesterday,” Keiran changed the subject with a nod to her leather bracelets.

“I love them all, thank you.” She gave him a true smile. “But I certainly don’t need so many.”

“You’ll find occasions for all of them in time,” Keiran grinned. “I should mention that Ameia, that’s Eiannae’s Chosen, was the one doing the choosing. She’s an expert at spending crown money on pretty things.”

“I’d write a proper thank you, but I don’t have paper, or a writing kit, or a desk, for that matter. I’ll have to thank her when I meet her at some point. Or perhaps you could extend my gratitude to her?” Gwen looked to Keiran.

“I’ll extend your happiness at her selections, and then I’ll fix your desk issue. I didn’t realize we hadn’t properly outfitted for your education.” Keiran drained his cup of juice.

“Was learning to read and write a condition of your apprenticeship?” Gavril asked. “Or could peasants in your area all read and write? My parents certainly never thought it was worth my time to learn to read and write, and only one or two in my village could but they never offered to teach anyone else. I can read now, but I’m slow at it and I can write when I have to, but I’ve been informed it’s not legible in the least. Damon why are you still standing at the door? Come actually join us!”

“What apprenticeship was this? What was your trade? I didn’t realize you had training.” Keiran asked cutting across Gavril’s endless questions and commentary with his own.

“I don’t have training or a trade. I was never an apprentice,” Gwen flashed Gavril a warning glare, but he was distracted by Sergeant Damon joining them at the table.

“She was to be an alchemist,” Gavril told Keiran. “She had been accepted for an apprenticeship the day she was Blessed.”

“Interesting, but you didn’t follow through on the apprenticeship after?” Keiran shoved a plate of food at Sergeant Damon without looking at him. His dark blue eyes remained locked on Gwen, curiosity sparking in their depths.

“The Blessing complicated things too much,” Gwen struggled through the words. ‘Complicated things’ was an understatement. “Obtaining proper reading and writing skills was a condition of being a ward at the Temple of Solreth in Port Tythrenn.”

“The one that burned down?” Sergeant Damon asked looking at her, finally appearing interested.

“That would be the only temple to Solreth there, or it was.” She applied herself to her food then, not wanting to think about the night she lost control. Screams were already echoing in her ears.

“Since when did you get so formal with us Damon?” Keiran turned the conversation away from her. “You’ve never hesitated to join us for a meal. Even if we didn’t invite you.”

“I’m on duty now,” he didn’t hide the bite to his words quite enough.

“You were on duty half of the time with Daric when you first started joining us,” Keiran reminded him.

“This is different,” Sergeant Damon’s voice held the resentment.

Gwen caught both Gavril’s and Keiran’s looks to Sergeant Damon, but she doubted he was reading into either of them. Gavril was clearly trying to relay the same message he had given the previous afternoon about not making it sound like protecting her was killing him. Keiran on the other hand was simply giving a look that said this wasn’t different at all. Sergeant Damon chose not to say anything more and no one pushed for it.

“Gwen, I’d like to propose an outing. You and I go to the gardens and then I take you by the barracks, not in, by, and I want to introduce you to my guard detail. They usually are out in the practice courts before midday.” Gavril smiled at her and then look to Sergeant Damon. “I believe I am more than approved to be a proper guardian for her for the day.”

She didn’t dare let the hope show on her face that she could spend the day away from her guards. Gavril had been qualified to be her escort the day before, and it had been nice. It would have been nice to not have to be on guard of her guards for a while.

“I’ll have a proper detail join you,” Sergeant Damon’s tone left little room for argument. She found herself nodding though she knew it wasn’t in confirmation of the detail but rather in acceptance that she would likely not be getting away from her guards for a long time.

At the end of breakfast, Keiran approached her and pulled her aside. “I’d like to have breakfast together every morning to check in and to get to know you. Gav said you probably wouldn’t want to do breakfast in his rooms ever since they are in the barracks. And you didn’t seem all that comfortable today. You were a bit more at ease yesterday in your rooms. Not that you seemed actually at ease with us then.” She waited for him to talk through his reasoning before he got to the point. It seemed to be a long time in coming. Something must have shown on her face because he stopped. “Do you mind hosting breakfast in your rooms? Not that you must host it really. You just must be there, and the servants bring the food. Then you just have to deal with us.”

“Keiran,” she cut him off from explaining more. “That’s fine.” It was probably better that Sergeant Damon not have to drag her anywhere in the mornings. There wasn’t much of a chance he’d accidentally bruise her again if she was in her own rooms.

“I’ll walk with you two back to your rooms to await a proper escort for our outing,” Gavril informed her when she returned to Sergeant Damon. She took Gavril’s offered arm. The walk back to her rooms was much more enjoyable than the walk to breakfast. Gavril chatted with Sergeant Damon as they walked and then with the guards in her room while the sergeant went to find her an escort.

Half an hour later they were outside in one of the gardens, but she didn’t stray from Gavril’s side and he seemed to notice and gave a meaningful glance back at the two guards following a few feet behind them.

“You’ll be able to see us anywhere in this garden,” he said as he steered Gwen down a path. To her surprise neither guard followed. “It’s hard for them to argue with me,” he told her calmly. “So, tell me about the meeting.”

“There are a lot of rules,” Gwen admitted. “For me. I didn’t stay to hear their rules,” she tossed her head back. “I believe Sergeant Damon hates me already and it’s showing.”

“So what’s your battle plan?” Gavril stopped her in front of one of the rose bushes she had spent five minutes examining the day before. She kept her smile to herself. He wasn’t stepping in. He wouldn’t unless she asked it of him now.

“Avoid breaking the rules and maybe he won’t make my life a misery,” she shrugged.

“And the bruises on your arm?” Gavril plucked one of the roses and quickly broke off any thorns before tucking it behind her ear.

“I misjudged,” she admitted when she realized he had known her story hadn’t matched the marks. “I’ll be more careful,” she touched at the petals that brushed her cheek.

“With luck, they’ll think I’m sweet on you and they’ll give us space without me having to ask for it,” he informed her. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she realized he might be offering it as his own form of protection that wasn’t him directly getting involved. Her guards respected him enough that they would stand back they also might not want to give her a reason to complain to her sweetheart about them.

“So they’ll just hate me more when it becomes clear you aren’t sweet on me anymore. It’s always the woman’s fault.” She grinned at him.

“I’ll make it clear my feelings for my little chaos sister have become more brotherly,” he informed her. “But for now it will explain the wanting of privacy and why I keep taking you to the gardens. Sweethearts at the palace do such things.” He grinned down at her. “My sweetheart won’t mind me pretending to show interest in you.”

“So who is your sweetheart really?” She asked as they started walking again.

“You’ll meet him when I introduce you to my guard detail later,” there was a bit of hesitation in his voice as he admitted it.

It was a surprise. Few men ever admitted to preferring other men. It wasn’t exactly considered an acceptable lifestyle, especially for a warrior type like Gavril. But if his sweetheart was also one of his guard detail, they seemed to at least have that in common. It was surprising beyond that because men that preferred other men were often thought of as lacking in masculinity. As Solreth’s Chosen and Blessed, Gavril was the epitome of masculinity. It was almost a laughable irony to spit in the face of the stereotype. But she did not laugh as she glanced up at Gavril to see him watching her for some sort of reaction.

“I look forward to meeting him. If I lure a man out of my guard detail, they’ll find themselves careerless and Sergeant Damon will find some other way to make my life a misery.” She shrugged and readjusted her grip on Gavril’s arm. “Does anyone else know?”

“Keiran knows. He caught us once. He’s been insufferable ever since.”

“So you’re to blame about his insufferableness.”

Gavril let out a surprised gasp and then started to laugh deeply. “I think he was this bad before that. But he’s especially insufferable to me about the women that approach me,” he admitted finally. “I like when you speak freely. You’re funny.”

They toiled through the rose garden for another ten minutes before Gavril signaled to the guards that they were leaving and led her to another garden. At each garden he made a point to pick a flower from a plant she had shown special interest in the day before. She raised an eyebrow at him by the third garden.

“Maybe I just want to be nice,” he told her. “And decorate you up like Variel.”

“Variel wasn’t wearing any flowers when I saw her,” Gwen waved at the rose behind one ear and the other flowers he had tucked into her braid.

“You actually saw Variel?” He sounded surprised.

“We yes, I had to see her for her to Bless me, right?” Gwen teased.

“I never saw Solreth. Just his light,” Gavril shrugged. “I think your Blessing was unique in more ways than one. I don’t think anyone saw their god or goddess when they were Blessed. You were a lot younger than the rest of us, and you were Blessed several years before any of us. Was it glorious?”

“It was terrifying and painful. I’m not really sure that adds up to glorious,” she shrugged and then glanced up at Gavril to realize he was staring again. She had said something else to confuse him. “What?”

“Terrifying I understand, but painful?” He pressed.

“Her Blessing was physically painful,” she sighed. If Gavril had entrusted her with his secret about his lover, then she could at least give him that.

“Another unique thing to you,” he sighed. “Well, let’s go swing by the practice courts.” 

Twenty minutes later, he was leaning on the fence post next to her pointing out his guard detail with a smile as he also pointed out they were practicing with her off duty guard detail. Sergeant Damon had abandoned his uniform for a plain white canvas shirt and cotton breeches, and was sparring with the man Gavril had shyly pointed out was the sergeant of his guard. Gavril’s sweetheart wasn’t just any guard, he was the head of his guard.

“Sergeant Nicolas,” he whispered.

“He’s handsome,” Gwen kept her voice down and her face straight. The man in question was good looking with brown hair and green eyes that lit up when he looked up to see Gavril. “Do the rest of your men know?” She asked finally.

“Not at all,” he grinned. “Nic volunteered himself for the night shift in my rooms three nights a week to give the normal night guards a few nights off. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” He leapt the fence and turned back around to reach to help her over.

“You mean go in there while they have weapons out,” she took a step back from the fence. Even with Gavril’s reassuring presence, she wasn’t about to go where guards were holding live weapons with the intent to use them.

“One day, I hope you’ll tell me what happened to you,” he sighed as he leaned on the fence in front of her. “You don’t have to come in. I’ll go get him.” She doubted he’d ever get the story from her that he was hoping for. He had seen the scars on her wrists and back. He had to have enough of a guess that his curiosity wasn’t causing him to push her for confirmation. She watched him push off the fence and walk through the practicing guards without fear of being hit. Either he was confident or stupid. She guessed confident simply because the guard that hit him on accident would be the stupid one. Gavril towered over all of them and out muscled any of them. And how anyone didn’t guess Gavril and his sergeant were sweethearts was beyond her. The radiant smile that was on Gavril’s face that was matched by Sergeant Nicolas was hard to miss.

Much to her unhappiness, Sergeant Damon came with Sergeant Nicolas when Gavril brought him over to the fence line. After a moment Sergeant Damon broke away from them to stand a few feet away to talk quietly with her escort. Sergeant Nicolas gave her a gentle smile and offered his hand to her.

“Gav was right,” were the first words out of Sergeant Nicolas’ mouth. “You are going to be a beauty once you get fed up a bit.”

“ _Gav_ is doing a lot of talking it seems, Sergeant,” Gwen glanced up at the man in question and received a sunny grin.

“My friends call me Nic,” he informed her. She found his smile infectious and smiled back. It was hard not to after he had indicated she should call him ‘Nic’ and she should count him as a friend. “Those are pretty flowers,” he nodded to her head.

“He thought I needed to be more decorated,” she jerked her head towards Gavril.

“There are women that would kill to have Solreth’s Chosen picking flowers for them,” Nic teased. Nearby she saw Sergeant Damon stop talking to his men and turn an ear towards her.

“I’ve often wondered why women liked receiving just flowers from sweethearts,” she told Nic.

“Because they are pretty,” Gavril told her. “Flowers are pretty.”

“They’re also guaranteed to die once removed from their plant,” Gwen shrugged. “Short lived signs of affection.” She shrugged. “My father always brought my mother a whole plant, roots and all, when he wanted to show affection. That way she could plant it and tend it and always have it as a reminder.”

“You hear that Gav? You want to impress this girl, give her the whole plant,” Nic chuckled.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a family,” Gavril raised an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t have a family. That doesn’t mean I didn’t have family at one point,” she fingered the leather bracelets absently until she saw Gavril watching her hands with a frown. She saw Nic’s eyes go to the bracelets and then away. She wondered if Gavril had told his sweetheart about the scars that they covered when he had spoken about her.

“Let me introduce you to my men,” Nic pushed away from the fence and let out a piercing whistle. Within fifteen seconds his men had abandoned their training and gathered by them. “Men, this is Lady Gwendolyn, she’s Variel’s Chosen. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of her so get familiar.” 

Names were given as hands clutched at hers to either give them a firm squeeze or to raise her fingers to their lips in a few daring cases. Then the men found various places to lean on the fence or sit on the fence to joke and laugh with Gavril and each other for her amusement.

“Have they always been so friendly?” Gwen asked Gavril after they had finally bid the men goodbye half an hour later. She saw Sergeant Damon jump the fence to walk with his men behind them.

“Actually, yes, they were a big help in me adjusting to life here. It helps that I started to train with them. Men let their guards down on the practice courts,” Gavril grinned at her. “I’m glad they’ve taken to you. Now you can trust more than just me and Keiran. Well, not really trust, but you don’t seem as distant around us,” he stopped and looked back to see Sergeant Damon following.

“I’m jealous of your guard detail,” she admitted quietly when he looked back at her.

“Damon is a good man and sooner or later he’ll realize he’s being an idiot,” Gavril sighed. “I hope it’s sooner, before you think I’m a liar.”

“I get the feeling that it’s hard for the Sun Blessed to lie. It sort of goes against everything your patron stands for with law and justice being part of his watch. But I guess we are sort of lying if you decide to keep pretending you’re sweet on me.” She gave his arm a tug to keep him walking.

“Well, that’s not necessarily lying. I’m being nice to you in the way that I used to be nice to my sister. If that happens to be interpreted by other men as being sweet on you, well, I can’t control what they think is going on.” He grinned.

“Tell me about your sister. You said she passed away from an illness?” Gwen turned the talk away from herself and let Gavril tell her all the stories he remembered about his little sister who passed away before her tenth birthday. The more he talked about the little girl he remembered the more she found herself wondering if her eldest brother might talk about her at all like she had died. It was likely he believed she had died. Perhaps he even lied about how she had died to people that weren’t there that night. 

As Gavril walked her back to her room for midday, she wondered if perhaps he had taken to her so quickly because she reminded him of his little sister. Had she survived, his sister would have matched Gwen in age. She found she was touched by the idea he might be trying to adopt her as a sister for more reasons than the fact they both had gods meddle with their lives. She liked the day and a half of interaction they had had together so perhaps it wouldn’t be all that bad to allow him to fill the role of older brother in her life. In a way, he did remind her a little bit of all her brothers. She just hoped he continued to remind her of the good qualities they had had. And she really hoped she never gave him a reason to show he could be just like them in the ways that made her sure she could never face her brothers again.


	6. Chapter 5

Gwen had been in her suite for two weeks when the desk that Keiran had promised her was finally delivered. It came at a time when Sergeant Damon was not in her room checking in on the men or her. She guessed if he had been there the desk might have been turned away. For some reason, though she had not broken any rules over the two weeks, the tension in the room soared upon his arrival. New rules were being added constantly whenever he noticed something that she did that displeased him. It didn’t take much for her to displease him either. Books were not to be left on furniture that was not the bookshelf. She was not to watch her guards. She was not to pace between the servant quarters and the bookshelf to exchange books every fifteen minutes. She was not to step out into the hall to locate a servant for anything. She was not to ask her guards to step out and request a servant for anything. She was not to have drink services or extra food brought between meals. She was not to go to the kitchens even with an escort in place of proper dining. She was almost certain that if Sergeant Damon ever did check in during the overnight shift, she would be given a rule mandating she be locked in the servant quarters until sunrise.

After both guards looked over the desk, the boxes that came with it, and the servants tasked with bringing it all, she directed them to a suitable place in the bedroom for her desk. When the servants left, she spent several long minutes trying to pry the lids off of the crates only to have a hand hesitantly touch her shoulder. She looked back to see one of the guards at her back. He hesitated again as she stared up at him waiting for him to speak.

“I can get those open for you,” he told her finally with a nod to the crates.

“You know I’m not allowed to ask you to open them.” She folded her arms. She suspected he wasn’t nervous about talking to her, but more nervous about his sergeant discovering he was offering to break a rule.

“You’re not asking. The servants should have done it before they left,” he frowned at the crates. “Why don’t you go use the privy or decide to change your shirt?” He helped her to her feet from where she had knelt on the floor over the boxes.

“You know, this shirt really doesn’t suit me today,” she admitted with a small smile and disappeared into her dressing room. After a minute she returned to find the lids pried off the crates and neatly piled out of the walking path of the doorway. Both guards were standing by the main door as if nothing had happened. She hid her smile as she began to pull writing supplies out of the crates. Perhaps her guards weren’t all that bad.

The door to her suite opened without a knock and she knew immediately that it was Sergeant Damon. He was the only person that didn’t feel the need to knock to announce himself. It was likely that he was trying to catch her breaking rules. She kept at unloading the crates as she felt his eyes on her. Likely he was looking at the lids of the crates to the side of the door and the mess she was making unpacking the crates. There would be a new rule in her future. She liked to try and guess the rules before they left his lips. This time she thought it would be that she was not to have crates delivered to the room.

“What’s all of this?” His voice came from the door. She heard the frustration in his tone that told her he was already on edge, though this was only his second visit of the day.

“It’s the desk and supplies that Keiran promised,” she sat back on her legs to look up at him. “Your men already checked it all over, and the servants that delivered it and the boxes.”

“Make sure you clean up,” he growled at her before storming back to the door.

Gwen stood and began to put the supplies into their proper drawers. Once all of the crates were empty she stacked them and set the lids on top of them. After that she realized she had no idea how to dispose of the empty crates. She would have felt comfortable asking the guards for a hint had Sergeant Damon not been standing with them, but his presence meant they were a little more terrifying again. But she also didn’t want whatever consequences he could think of for her to not have them removed.

She stood in the doorway with her hands folded in front of her not looking at the guards or Sergeant Damon and waited for them to notice her. “What?” Sergeant Damon demanded with a snap when he did finally notice her.

“I’m not sure how to dispose of the crates now that they are empty,” she kept her eyes on the floor at Sergeant Damon’s feet. “Perhaps I could be told what is expected of me.”

“You ask the servants to remove them,” Sergeant Damon snapped at her.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” she turned to push the crates away from the walking path. She was not allowed to go find a servant to relay her request. She was not allowed to ask a guard to relay her request. The only time she ever saw a servant was during the scheduled delivery of all meals. She could ask then, but it meant that she was not able to have the crates removed until the servants came to bring dinner in several hours.

To pass the time, she sat down at the desk and began to mix the pigment powder and water to create ink. Once her ink was ready, she removed some paper from the top drawer and selected a quill. She had once known how to write. She had spent many long hours copying scripture to learn how to form proper letters. But she hadn’t held a quill in four years. She wasn’t sure if writing was something that needed practice to be maintained or if it was something that she would still be able to do well. She dipped the quill into the ink and began to write the basic block letters in their uppercase and lowercase forms. The letters were shaky to begin with but slowly the block letters became straighter and even. When she had produced several copies of the alphabet in perfect block lettering she turned to calligraphy and script writing. This was harder because it required concentration to keep the flow from letter to letter around each loop and flourish.

“Gwen?” She looked up to see Keiran standing there looking amused. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure my writing skills didn’t get rusty,” she grinned up at him. “Were you checking in to make sure the desk arrived safely?”

“That, and I was wondering if you’d take dinner with me. I want to introduce you to Ameia.” He blushed slightly. Over the two weeks at breakfasts she had noticed that whenever Eiannae’s Chosen was mentioned Keiran blushed just a fraction. It was very likely he was smitten with her, but she also knew from inquiring about it to Gavril that Keiran and Ameia were not sweethearts or more than passing companions from time to time.

“I’d love to,” she stoppered her ink and stacked the papers together to tuck into a drawer. She didn’t need Sergeant Damon threatening to have her supplies removed if she didn’t clean up after herself. “Perhaps if I’m meeting Ameia I should change into something a bit prettier,” she sighed looking down at her plain green shirt and black breeches.

“We have a bit of time if that’s how you feel,” he nodded to her dressing room. 

She came back in a tunic of a brilliant red with a gray silk shirt and black silk leggings. On her wrists she wore tarnished silver bracelets with rubies set into a flower pattern. She tucked her hair back into a knot at the base of her skull and then turned so Keiran could see.

“I almost feel a bit put off that you don’t think I’m worth that effort each morning,” he teased.

“I’m not trying to impress you,” she told him with a straight face.

“And you want to impress Ameia?” He asked when he offered his arm.

“I think it will be worth my time to impress her if you make me attend parties and social functions of the court like you keep threatening,” she told him honestly as she took his arm. Right before they left the suite she realized Sergeant Damon was gone and there was no escort. “We’re going without a guard escort?” She asked Keiran.

“We are,” Keiran led her into the hall.

“And Sergeant Damon is alright with that?” She asked. She knew Gavril wasn’t able to escort her anywhere without a guard, but the guards were all respectful enough to give them space. It seemed that all of the guards chose to believe that Gavril’s kindness towards her was his attempts to court her. Out of respect to him they gave them as much privacy as they could without abandoning them altogether.

“I’m saying he’ll be okay with it.” Keiran informed her firmly. “Let’s go.” He tugged her arm to get her walking.

They stopped at a door with a carved crescent moon, Eiannae’s symbol. The door opened before Keiran could knock and a beautiful young woman stood there grinning up at him. Her blonde hair was curled and meticulously pinned into a cascade from the top of her head around one side of her head. Her bright hazel eyes held a bit of gold paint on the lids to bring out the brighter shades of gold and green in her eyes. Each eye was lined with brown kohl with kohl rubbed in to darken her thick eyelashes. Her small button of a nose was set over plush painted pink lips. She was dressed in a pink and gold silk dress that brought out her curves and made them look desirably without looking improper.

For the few moments she got to look over Eiannae’s Chosen, the young woman seemed to have no idea she was there. If Keiran was smitten with the beautiful Ameia, she was clearly returning the desire. Then suddenly those hazel eyes turned her way and her face took on a glow before Gwen found herself wrapped in a tight embrace. “Oh! You must be Gwen! You’re so pretty! Red is a good color for you! It brings out the red tones in your hair beautifully! And you have such a good eye for matching colors! I love the bracelets!” 

Gwen looked to Keiran with her eyes wide. Every statement sounded as if she was beyond excited and the woman had yet to let her go from the embrace. Keiran was failing at hiding any amusement at the situation.

“You must be Ameia,” she fought her own smile as suddenly she was released.

“Oh! Of course! How silly of me! I’m Ameia, Eiannae’s Chosen, the Moon Blessed… all of that nonsense.” She flipped a hand. “Come in! When Keiran mentioned that I had neglected to introduce myself to you yet, I couldn’t tell you how ashamed I was at myself. Usually I’m more on top of these sorts of things.” She snatched Gwen’s arm and held it close like a lover might as they walked into the suite.

The suite was completely decorated in tasteful silk hangings, vases packed with blooming flowers, and elegant little trinkets. Then she realized there were two guards seated at the table with smiles plastered on their faces as they listened to Ameia rambling. Gavril had said that Ameia still had her guards and used them as companions.

Gwen had tried to include her guards in at least her breakfasts, but they had declined for several mornings and had given a meaningful glance at Sergeant Damon the last time she had tried to ask. It was a rule that they weren’t allowed.

“Oh! Please have a seat!” She pulled out her own pink cushioned chair and sat with a graceful sweep of her pink skirts. There were two open chairs, one next to Ameia and one next to that. She debated briefly about allowing Keiran to sit next to his crush but Ameia beckoned to her and patted the pink cushion of the chair next to her as an indication that she should sit down. “So tell me everything about you!”

Gwen knew that ‘everything’ she was able and willing to tell was a very short list. And the things she was willing to tell Gavril and Keiran about herself would likely depress the upbeat Ameia. But she had a hunch of how to deflect Ameia from questions of that sort completely.

“I have just been dying to thank you properly for the bracelets. I hope Keiran relayed my gratitude!” She allowed a bit of emotion to leak into her voice so Ameia knew she truly was grateful.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m sure Keiran told you about how much I love to shop,” she leaned around Gwen and gave a lovely smile to Keiran. “Bracelets are such an underrated piece of jewelry. Everyone is all about necklaces and earbobs. It’s nice to see someone bringing them back into style.” Gwen smiled as Ameia went off about court fashions for over half of the meal. All she had to do was poke it along with smiles, nods, and soft laughs in the right places.

“You look a little dressed up tonight. Keiran indicated you prefer breeches and plain cotton shirts,” Ameia nodded to her attire when she had exhausted the topic of the current court trends.

“I do prefer breeches and plain shirts, but I rarely have reasons to wear anything else. I thought meeting you was a good reason to dig a little deeper into my wardrobe.” She looked down at her plate. “Unfortunately, I have no experience with cosmetics or I might have dabbled in those as well.”

“Oh! I could teach you!” Ameia was practically bouncing in her seat. Then she was off talking again about colors that would do best on Gwen’s features and how to best enhance the beauty she had naturally. She caught Keiran’s eye and saw he was smiling down at his plate shaking his head. Then dinner was over and Keiran was leading her to the door.

“We’ll have to arrange a time for me to come and teach you everything!” Ameia told her as she pulled her back into another long embrace.

Down the hall she caught Keiran’s eye just before he burst out laughing. “That was a brilliant way to elude all questions about yourself,” he explained when he sobered up a little. “You might be the best courtier in this palace. You turn the talk to the interests of the person you are with to avoid conversation far better than anyone I’ve met.”

“I did want her to teach me about using cosmetics though,” Gwen admitted after he had stopped laughing completely. “And perhaps I’ll ask her to teach me some more ways to style my hair.”

“I think the next time you two are in a room together I’ll be finding somewhere else to be,” he teased. “So what did you think of her really?”

“I think she’s very happy and very beautiful,” Gwen grinned up at Keiran. “I’m sure she makes every man desire her.”

“She’s seldom without a dance partner at court parties,” Keiran admitted.

“Do you steal dances with her?” Gwen caught his blush.

“The line is usually too long for her to even glance my way,” he sighed.

“You are a prince. I think you could cut in the line if you wanted. Claim privilege or something.” They rounded the corner by her hallway.

“It’s wrong of me to claim privilege to take her time,” he informed Gwen finally. “To all Chosen, I’m just another Chosen. I won’t pull rank.”

“I didn’t mean for you to pull rank on her,” she winked at him. “Pull it on the line of courtiers.” They stopped outside of her door and she smiled up at him. “I enjoyed meeting Ameia.”

“Good, I’m glad you like her.” He opened the door and held it open for her to go inside. “I’ll see you at breakfast.” Then he closed the door and was gone.

Gwen turned from the closed door to see Sergeant Damon glaring at her from the middle of the sitting room and her two night guards looking anywhere but at her. “Where were you?” Sergeant Damon demanded. “You left without an escort!”

“His Highness said it was alright,” she found her eyes dropping to the floor.

“It’s not ‘alright’. You are under my protection, not his. You are to follow _my_ rules.” Sergeant Damon was growling at her. She sidled around the outside of the room towards the bedroom hoping for some sort of escape with only just a warning. “And I told you to clean up this mess. I even told you how to get it done! Why are these crates still here?” He followed her into the bedroom and kicked the crates until they tumbled over from their pile. 

She blushed deeply. She had meant to address those when the servants came to bring dinner but she hadn’t been in the room for dinner. She had been meeting Ameia. She had gone without a guard, she had left a mess, and she had no good answers for him about Keiran’s assurances or the rules he had in place for her that made it impossible for her to take care of it now.

He seized the closest crate and threw it down in front of her bookshelf. There was no respect for the books as he tossed each one on top of each other in the crate with a bit of force. She flinched with each dull thunk of the hard leather bindings and covers crashing into each other. Then he stalked over to the servant quarters and removed the book she had been reading at night.

“If you’re too stupid to follow the simplest instructions, you don’t need these,” he informed her as he tossed the last book into the crate. “I’ll be approving no escorts for your little outings tomorrow and perhaps the next day.” He kicked the crate out into the sitting room. “I want these other crates gone by morning.” Then he was gone and she just stood there staring at the empty bookshelf. He had taken her books and he had informed her that she was bound to these rooms. She was left with blank paper and ink to entertain herself. And if she didn’t think of some way to remove the crates without breaking rules by morning, he would probably take those away too.

“My Lady?” She heard one of the guards by the door call.

“Please, not right now,” she whispered. She was fighting back her power that had responded to Sergeant Damon’s punishment and words towards her. She needed to concentrate on it, on pushing back that flame inside of her until it was nothing more than a spark again.

“My Lady?” The guard was closer. “Lady Gwendolyn?” She looked up to see him standing over her. When had she sat down? She didn’t know. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone? “Do you want me to send for a servant to bring some tea and take these crates away?”

“You can’t. I’m not allowed to go find a servant. I’m not allowed to have you go find a servant. I’m not allowed to ask for tea outside of meals. I’m not allowed,” she whispered. “Please just go stand back by the door and stop asking me to break more rules.” She felt tears forming in her eyes and tried to dash them away. The guard backed away slowly. 

When he was gone, she picked herself up and went to her dressing room to remove the pretty clothes and then she went to hide in her bed with the door closed as she tried to push the tears and her power back. Her attempt to not anger Sergeant Damon any more than he already was by being assigned to her care had only two weeks. And he had taken her books. She had nothing to distract her now. 

Then a thought struck her hard and she sat up, realizing how silly she sounded. She had survived _Faserlaeh_. She had been imprisoned by tyrannical guards. There were no outings or books. Two weeks and she had become spoiled. It might have been that Sergeant Damon was trying to take out his frustrations on her, but she was tougher than that. He could remove everything she had, and she would still be his problem. She would keep going.

Gwen stood and pulled the door open and immediately noticed the lack of crates in the bedroom. She raised an eyebrow at the guards who only shrugged.

“We have no idea where they went,” the guard that had approached her after Sergeant Damon had left informed her.

“He’ll know some rule was broken,” she informed them. “He knows there was no way for me to get it done before he shows up in the morning.”

“You broke no rules. You didn’t ask us to find anyone to remove them. You didn’t ask me to do anything but my job, which is to protect you,” he retorted. 

She stared at him. What he had said was shocking enough, what he hadn’t said floored her slightly. They were protecting her from their own commander. First, the guard that had helped her remove the lids from her crates earlier and now these two or at least one of them. But, even then, neither of their partners seemed to be about to say anything to Sergeant Damon.

“Thank you,” she found her words finally. “I won’t forget this.” She went to her desk then and sat down. Sergeant Damon could take her books but she could still entertain herself. She pulled out the bottle of ink she had made earlier and gave it a shake to remix the pigment before dipping her quill in. Then she started to write the first thing she could think of. _Rule 1: An escort is required whenever you leave the room, no exceptions._

In the morning Sergeant Damon arrived several long minutes before Keiran or Gavril appeared. He took one long look at Gwen’s clothes that she had chosen for the day and had glared down at her. She had decided to take Keiran’s tease that he was offended she never put effort for him and had dressed in a similar outfit from the night before except she had changed out red and black for green and light blue. She watched the glare wondering what exactly he was mad about. She couldn’t even begin to imagine why he was mad about her clothing. Was it that silk was above her station as a peasant? Or the blue topaz bracelets were too expensive for the likes of her?

“You’re not going anywhere today,” he said finally. 

So that was it. He thought she was dressing up for some sort of outing. 

“I know,” she turned to smile at the servants that brought in breakfast. She stood to go help remove the trays from the cart. If she could barely get on with her guards, she at least could be friendly with the servants. If anything, she believed it was bad form to ignore the people that brought her food.

“Well, look at this. Is Ameia coming over to teach you the lady like arts of hair and face painting?” Keiran teased as he entered the room and caught sight of her clothing.

“No, someone informed me they were offended I made no effort for them,” she rolled her eyes as she turned to face not only Keiran, but Gavril and Nic. She smiled at the extra sergeant. He hadn’t joined them for breakfast before, but she certainly wasn’t upset by his appearance. The servants were always prepared for additions as they always brought up extra trays. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Gavril nodded to Nic.

“Of course not!” She grinned at the man.

“Damon, why don’t you join us this morning as well? Since you’re here already,” Keiran threw himself down in a chair. Sergeant Damon didn’t respond but he did sit down. “Gav, you should have seen the way Gwen deflected Ameia away from telling about herself last night. It was worth watching once but I’ll avoid being in the room between them again.”

“Why deflect questions?” Nic asked as he took his seat by Gavril. “I thought the Blessed all told each other everything.”

“Gwen’s a different sort of Blessed,” Gavril turned to Keiran. “Did you know she actually saw Variel?”

“Really?” Keiran shifted. “You must be the only person in recorded history to have seen a god up close. You’re so lucky.”

“What about Paxton, Orvanus’ Chosen? Certainly he had to have seen his god when he was brought back from death.” Gwen didn’t feel lucky at all. A different sort of Blessed indeed. She had thought long and hard about what Gavril had said that first walk in the garden about her being unique. She chose to believe that the direct Blessing from a god had been the reason she had felt so much pain. And perhaps the other gods had learned from that and had done their Blessings rather indirectly. But that belief had implications that the gods were not perfect either and had to learn their own crafts better as well. It was a terrifying thought for her to push at too deeply. She doubted it would be as well received by anyone else.

“Paxton didn’t see Orvanus either. He claims it was something like whispers and wind wrapping around his soul and urging him back towards his body and his body was healed.” Keiran informed her. “What was Variel like?”

Gwen glanced up from her plate to see not just Keiran interested by Nic and Sergeant Damon as well. She could hear the guards at her door shifting and she guessed they were hoping to hear too. Only Gavril didn’t look directly at her. He already knew enough to know it wasn’t a pleasant meeting. She would have to say something for the others though.

“Variel was beyond beautiful,” she admitted finally. “She stood taller than Gavril and she looked as if she were carved from marble.” She closed her eyes trying to picture the goddess. “Her eyes were the color of pink tourmaline with silver pupils. And her hair was silver but in the light I could see every color in the world.” She opened her eyes and looked down at her plate.

“That’s amazing,” she heard Keiran breathe out. “I can’t believe you saw her!”

“It was terrifying,” Gwen sighed.

“Gwen? Do you want to go down into the city with me today? We can spend some of that wonderful allowance on some items to make this place look more like home for you.” Gavril asked before anyone else could ask more questions about Variel and thus the Blessing. 

She bit her lip. She would not be allowed to go though she did want to. She didn’t spare a glance at Sergeant Damon to let anyone know it was his rules that were keeping her in. “That sounds wonderful,” she started, “but I think I’d like to stay in today.”

“Are you sure? You can stay in after we get it all decorated up,” Gavril pressed.

“I found a good book that I’d like to stay in and read,” she told him. 

“I’ll never understand why you love reading so much,” he admitted. “Alright. Maybe another time, when you finish that book.”

“I’d like that,” she forced a smile. It had clearly been a lie as she no longer had books to read and before that she didn’t really have too much interest in any of the books that had been in her room once Sergeant Damon had taken the botany book on the first night he had been charged with her safety. But Gavril wouldn’t ask about books. He had no interest in them so he likely wouldn’t detect her lie.

Breakfast ended soon enough and Keiran, Gavril, and Nic all let themselves out. Only Sergeant Damon stayed to watch her help the servants clean up the table. When the servants were gone, she turned to him wondering why he was still there.

“You lied to your sweetheart,” he said finally.

“Would you prefer I tell him there are no books here or that I’m not allowed to leave the room?” She asked. Perhaps he wanted her to complain so he would be reassigned. His look told her that was wrong. That he was merely curious as to why she hadn’t told about his treatment of her. “I was wondering if I might be able to have a note sent to Edith and Paxton. I’d like to meet them.”

“Edith will never be approved to be in these rooms. And you may have the servants bring a note to Paxton when they come to bring you midday. No leaving to find a servant and no having the guards do it either,” he turned and left before anything else could be said.

Gwen went to her desk to write a note to Paxton introducing herself and asking if he wanted to meet in person at some point in the future. Then Gwen took a glance at the door and wrote another note to Edith being as honest as possible about the situation. She guessed that Voleus’ Chosen wouldn’t quite care that she wasn’t allowed into Gwen’s suite. From what she had gathered of the young woman, she had quite a lot of fun breaking rules.

Thoughts of Edith breaking the rules turned her mind to the list of rules she had been given. She wasn’t allowed to look at the guards long enough for them to feel watched but so far there were no rules about talking to her guards. Talking to Ameia the night before had given her an idea. Bringing up items of Ameia’s interest had gotten her talking nearly nonstop about certain topics. While she knew getting Ameia to have a conversation wasn’t any hard task, the girl liked to talk, she thought she might use the same technique to get her guards to talk to her. She knew that being a Royal Guard was a prestigious and coveted station. She also knew from Gavril that her guards were the best. 

She went out to the sitting room to find a seat and start stroking egos to get them to tell her about themselves.


	7. Chapter 6

Gwen was not surprised when Sergeant Damon informed her the next morning that she would not be leaving that day either. She made her excuses to Gavril during breakfast when he asked about visiting the gardens and then settled in at her desk after to appear interested in writing until Sergeant Damon left her alone. When he was gone, she went to the sitting room and engaged her guards in conversation.

The day before she had managed to get all three shifts of guards to tell her how they had gotten into the Royal Guard and some good stories about their time in the Guard. Now today she had a different set of morning guards that she was happy to try her luck at the same trick again. The guards were more than willing to open up to her and she guessed that their counterparts had told them she might ask them. They were ready with their stories and even referenced stories she had heard the day before. The trick that they all had to learn was to guess at Sergeant Damon’s arrival times so he wouldn’t forbid them from talking to each other at all. It led to stilted conversation where they would stop every half a minute to listen.

Whenever Sergeant Damon did enter the suite, his eyes narrowed immediately and his jaw clenched. She guessed it was a special look that he had just for her, just like the special frustration he reserved just for her. Gwen always found an excuse to duck out of the sitting room when he arrived to go into the servant quarters or her dressing room. He stopped in once every other hour or so and stayed for a few minutes before leaving again.

After dinner he arrived in a freshly pressed uniform with one other guard and took the place of the door guards. She frowned as she realized he was staying for the night. Already she could hear the rules he would come up with should he be displeased that she didn’t sleep all that long yet or that she closed the servant quarter’s door when she did sleep. He would hate that she sometimes paced or would go to bed and get up to sit at her desk a while. He seemed to realize his presence wasn’t exactly desired because he gave her a small smirk.

“Something you would rather do without me here?” He asked her. Yes, her mind replied to him, everything. She wanted to do everything without him there. 

She rolled her eyes and settled in at her desk but couldn’t think of anything she actually wanted to do there. With a sigh she rose and went to the privy to run a bath. If anything a bath would at least kill some time.

With the hot water scented like lavender and her body submerged up to her chin, she turned to tending to the little candle of power that burned in her gut constantly. Her wonderful Blessing was in that steady flame that burned inside of her most of the time. It became a curse when it responded to her emotions and often to her anger. She had no happy memories that weren’t shadowed to feed to her little flame of power to keep it steady so she fed it her love of the scent of lavender and the comfort of a hot bath.

Sometime later she opened her eyes and jumped but withheld her scream. Crouched at the edge of her bath was a woman that appeared to be eighteen or so. Her silky brown hair was left long and hanging loose around her face. Her tanned skin accented silver eyes that were scrutinizing Gwen’s every feature as well. Her nose was perfectly straight but slightly hooked creating a somewhat feral look to her. Her full lips twitched for a second and then settled into a predatory smile. Slowly she raised one finger to her lips and slinked over to the door to stuff a drying cloth under the opening at the bottom and a handkerchief in the keyhole.

Gwen stared all she wanted at Voleus’ Chosen. King Alaric had said she was a jewel thief. Gwen would bet money she was the best jewel thief. Likely she had been granted a royal pardon too. Likely she had royal jewels she had stolen before she had been Blessed. Likely she had royal jewels she had stolen after she had been Blessed. 

The young woman was dressed in tight black breeches and a tighter black shirt. Her silver eyes were rimmed in dark kohl. Gwen guessed that she could be little more than a shadow if she chose as she watched the woman slide back to the edge of the bath noiselessly across the floor. She perched at the edge of the bath.

“You would pick the night that Sergeant Damon decided he needed to monitor me,” Gwen informed her quietly as she drained the tub. “But it’s nice to see I didn’t underestimate you, Edith.” The woman’s predatory smile became a true smile.

“You think he’s out there by happy accident?” Edith moved so she could sit cross legged on the edge of the bath. Her soft voice was lower, soothing almost. “I left my guards behind sometime around breakfast looking for a good way to break in. I’m sure he’s making sure we two criminals don’t visit.”

Gwen didn’t bother questioning how Edith knew she was a criminal. Since she had pulled the drain on the tub, her unbraceleted wrists had become visible. Likely every scar on her body told Edith a story. Gwen would have found herself very impressed, though, if Edith knew what she had done and where she had been. That would have required some research into nonexistent documents.

“I’m not sure Sergeant Damon knows he has a criminal in these rooms,” Gwen informed her. “As far as I know he just hates that he has a peasant to guard instead of his beloved Prince.” Gwen lifted herself out of the tub to grab a drying cloth.

“Either way, he doesn’t want me talking to you. I’m sure he’s worried that I’ll just try and walk right through the front door.” Edith grinned. “Front doors are overrated.”

“And windows are much better?” Gwen asked looking to the open window Edith had likely climbed through.

“Privy windows to be exact. No one ever checks those,” Edith stood. “I have something for you but there’s a rule.”

Gwen sighed. Thieves certainly had all sorts of rules especially when it came to favors. She was likely to find that a gift or favor now would mean a gift or favor owed down the road and likely she wouldn’t be able to pick what Edith called on her for. Part of her wanted to refuse right away. Then she looked at the young woman again and smiled. There was likely nothing Edith would ask of her that she wouldn’t do. Edith gave off a practical air. She wasn’t a murderer or committing treason. She was a jewel thief who prided herself on sneaking away from her guards. Likely she’d ask for a distraction and Gwen could certainly help her escape her guards.

“Alright, what’s the rule?” Gwen asked.

“The rule is, don’t ever ask how I get what I bring to you. The less you know, the better.” Edith went to the window and reached over the edge to pull up a small bag. Then she sat down on the floor and indicated Gwen should do the same. Gwen folded herself across from Edith with the drying cloth around her shoulders.

“That’s a good rule,” Gwen told her as Edith began to dig through the bag. Edith first produced a book and handed it over to Gwen. The title of the book indicated it was a book of plants, the same book on plants that Sergeant Damon had ripped out of her hands on his first night meeting her. The second item she withdrew from the bag was a scroll.

“I thought you might not want all copies destroyed,” Edith whispered as Gwen took hold of the scroll and opened it. There on the scroll was her name, her transgressions, her prisoner number, her cell number, the list of roommates she had been through, a list of dates she had been publicly whipped. Additionally, there was a list of other dates she had been beaten or whipped by one of the guards and the name of the guard that had done it and the supposed infraction she had committed that had inspired the beating. Then finally it came to the bottom where there was the list of guards by name that had withdrawn her from the line for their own pleasure as well as the number of times they each had taken her. Why had they felt the need to record that? She wasn’t sure.

“You read this, I assume?” Gwen looked up at Edith.

“No, not past the first part to figure out what it was.” Gwen stared at Edith and realized she actually trusted that to be true. “The army sergeants that retrieved you kept a copy. I liberated it and decided destroying it for you might not be what you want. Now you can decide what to do with it.” 

“I didn’t mean to kill people,” Gwen whispered finally.

“Real arsonists are usually better at not getting caught,” Edith said practically. “I figured you weren’t the mass murderer type.” She stared at Gwen a second longer. “I should go before Sergeant Sword-Up-His-Arse decides to check on you. We’ll meet again. Don’t lock this window.” Then Edith was over the window ledge and gone. 

Gwen stared at the book and the scroll. She would have to hide them. She would have to smuggle them out of the privy somehow. At least she had a plan for that. She wrapped herself in the dressing robe, tucked the book and scroll in the front of her robes, and then gathered up the clothes she had worn that day from their pile on the floor. She clutched the clothes to her stomach and chest hoping they disguised any extra bulk she had. When she was sure she was as composed as possible, she kicked the drying cloth in front of the door aside, removed the handkerchief, and opened the door.

From the privy door she had a direct view of Sergeant Damon glaring at her. It was unlikely that he knew she had had company. His glare was more likely that she hadn’t broken any rules. She assumed he would prefer she break rules so he had a reason to be frustrated with her and could take out his already built up frustrations on her. She dodged into her dressing room and changed into her night clothes before wrapping the book and the scroll in her dressing robe. She left the dressing room and stopped in front of the archway that led to the sitting room.

“Good night,” she addressed the second guard rather than Sergeant Damon. His name was Aiden she had learned the night before. He and his partner, Julian, had been permanently assigned to her night shift except when Sergeant Damon decided to take one of their places for the night. 

“Lady Gwen, this is early for you,” Aiden folded his arms.

“I doubt I’ll be sleeping any time soon but I figured I’d give it a chance,” she smiled at him. “Perhaps Alonox will grant me a full night of sleep for once.”

Aiden let out a snort at the thought of it before Sergeant Damon caught his eye. Gwen turned and disappeared into the servant quarters. Gavril had told her to be open to her guards and they would eventually grow to like her. If anything, they didn’t have to be strangers but it seemed that Sergeant Damon didn’t like any sort of kindness between her and the guards. Likely he wanted them to stay with the resolve that they resented her so they would help convince Prince Daric that it was time to leave.

Despite her comment about giving sleep a try and Alonox the God of Dreams and Sleep possibly granting her some actual sleep, she sat on the bed with the lamp lit and unrolled the scroll again. 

_Name: Gwendolyn Wood_

_Guilty in Port Tythrenn of burning down the Temple of Solreth resulting in the deaths of eleven priests. At the time of sentencing, thirty-seven injuries related to the burning of the temple were also reported._

_Prisoner Number: 8097_

_Cell Number: 17 Bed A_

_Description upon arrival: 14 year old female, pale skin, blue-gray eyes, dark brown hair, height 5’5”, thin, no birthmarks._

_Family to be notified at time of death: Elden Wood, Port Tythrenn Watch, Sergeant._

_Whipped as an example on the following dates:_

Gwen read through the entire scroll four times. Each date she read, she remembered the pain of the iron tipped whips as they tore open the skin on her back, her legs, her stomach, her chest, and her arms. Each guard’s name that was listed reminded her of a different kind of pain that took place in dark corners and in abandoned cells or broom closets. 

Despite the twenty or so names of the guards that had hurt her listed at the bottom of the page, it was one of the names at the top of the scroll that held her attention. Her brother, her eldest brother had put his name in as someone to be notified when she died. She certainly hadn’t given his name to the Captain that had written this all down. Perhaps her brother knew she was still alive then. Or perhaps he thought she had died and they had neglected to notify him. Or perhaps they had informed him that she had been granted a pardon and was now out in the world.

She doubted he’d come looking for her after all that had happened. When she had been a ward at the Temple of Solreth, after he had abandoned her there, she had seen him nearly every Sunday when the Tythrenn Watch made a point to attend services. She had seen him, but he had ignored her. The first time she had seen him she had called out to him in hopes that he would feel bad and take her back, but he had turned away. She had decided after that not to try again.

Her eyes went back to his name again. He had wanted to know when she had died. His new rank had even been added after he had been promoted within the Tythrenn Watch which meant at the time he had been promoted he had been in contact with Faserlaeh still. Had he kept his eye on her there? She wondered if perhaps he had fallen out of contact when the captains in charge of Faserlaeh had changed over several times. Perhaps he didn’t know she was still alive or even pardoned. 

She wondered if she should write to him and inform him herself that she was no longer at Faserlaeh after receiving a royal pardon. But writing him personally might let him think she forgave him or perhaps was reaching out to him as family. She didn’t want him thinking she still thought there were blood connections between her and him. So perhaps she could write the letter as an impartial source and not sign it. Or perhaps she could have Keiran send the letter. He would understand simply because he was privy to more of that information. She didn’t trust Prince Daric to do it anonymously and she certainly wouldn’t and couldn’t ask any of her guards.

But perhaps he had wanted to know when she was dead so he could stop worrying about her and her murderous ways. Letting him know she was alive would be a bad thing then. She didn’t want him to worry about her anymore.

She rolled up the scroll and tucked it between the mattress and the wall just in time as she heard a quiet knock on the door. She had just enough time to check to make sure the book was still tucked beneath her pillow out of sight before the door opened to admit Sergeant Damon.

“You’re still awake,” he frowned down at her.

“Are you surprised?” She stared up at him while he frowned down at her.

“What are you doing in here?” He asked finally.

“Sitting on the bed thinking until I get tired enough to sleep,” she informed him. That was certainly not a lie, she thought to herself. She was thinking. She just happened to have some reading material to help those thoughts along. “What are you doing in here?” Mentally she scolded herself the moment the words left her mouth. He didn’t need her to goad him at all to make her life worse.

“Checking on you. Your safety is my job, remember?” He frowned down on her. “Do you always wear bracelets?”

She looked down at her wrists where her soft leather bracelets resided. It had become such a habit to put them on that she hadn’t realized she had snapped them back in place when she had gotten dressed but she wasn’t surprised. But now Sergeant Damon had mentioned them and she guessed if she gave him a reason to believe she liked her bracelets, he would find a reason to remove them.

“They were a gift from Keiran when he found out I’ve never owned jewelry of my own before,” she traced the soft backside of the bracelet on her left wrist. She hoped that if she mentioned they were a gift from a prince and her own personal property, not lent to her by the Crown, he wouldn’t steal them as a punishment in the future.

“It can’t be comfortable to wear them to bed,” he informed her finally.

“I’m trying to get used to wearing them so I was advised to wear them all of the time to get used to them.” She frowned at the bracelets as she knew her tongue was about to get the better of her once again. “Do you make a habit of cornering women in their bedrooms and conversing with them while they are inappropriately attired?”

“You’re hardly inappropriately attired,” he nodded to her clothes that were hardly different from what she normally wore in the daytime. “But nonetheless, I shall return to my post. I’d like this door left open.”

“You can like it open, but I’d like it closed,” she told him when he turned to go.

“It’s a new rule,” he shot back over his shoulder.

“Of course it is,” she mumbled to herself as he disappeared. She knew he couldn’t hear her anymore. He was already back at the door talking softly with Aiden.

She turned out the lamp and laid down on the bed and lifted the covers over herself. The book under her pillow she shifted down the side of the bed and pushed it as far under the bed as she could get it. She wouldn’t be able to read now that he had made it a rule she couldn’t sleep with the door closed. He would check on her and see the book and know that she had somehow stashed one away from him. Perhaps that was why he wanted the door open. He wanted to catch her breaking rules. 

She settled back against her pillow and stared up at the ceiling. Without consciously thinking about it, her mind was reviewing the information on the scroll. She didn’t bother trying to sleep. She was much too aware of the open door and the men’s voices talking quietly. Her eyes stayed open and trained on the ceiling even when she heard one of the voices draw nearer. Somewhere in her mind she was lying on the hard stone bench in her cell those first nights she was at Faserlaeh and the guards were doing their walk arounds to make sure no one was doing anything displeasing. She had laid there perfectly still unable to sleep then and she was lying perfectly still unable to sleep now as Sergeant Damon stood in her doorway.

“It’s midnight, get some sleep,” his voice broke through her thoughts. She didn’t respond. She had nothing to say anymore to him. After several long minutes he turned and walked away. But he returned again an hour later, and an hour after that, and an hour after that. Each time he reminded her how late it was and told her to sleep.

Finally, the predawn glow outside of the windows in the bedroom lightened the servant quarters enough that she gave up completely. It was now an acceptable time to no longer be in bed. She got up, made her bed up nicely, and carried her dressing robe out into the main bedroom. She glanced at the door to see Sergeant Damon still there with Aiden. He paused the conversation and turned to look at her with his eyes narrowed.

“Do you need something?” He asked her.

“Not at all,” she turned and went into the privy. While she had taken a bath the night before, she thought it might do her some good to do a quick wash with some lemon balm added to the water in her washbasin.

When her face was clean and she had breathed in enough of the energy boosting scent, Gwen gave herself a good look over in the mirror. Her face was rounding out but it would always be more angular than rounded. Her blue-gray eyes were dark rimmed but no longer completely sunken in. Her body, while still rail thin, was starting to flesh out enough that she didn’t look like she might break at the slightest breeze. It would be a couple of months before she reached a decent size. She ran a brush through her chest length dark chestnut hair and sighed at the thought of the energy it would take to braid it back. But then she remembered, these were supposed to be her rooms and she likely wouldn’t be allowed to leave again so she didn’t need to put forth that effort. She wondered how long it would be before Sergeant Damon allowed her out of her rooms. 

Once Gwen was clean and dressed, she settled on an arm chair in the bedroom to look out of the window. Her mind went back to the scroll once again. She had been granted a royal pardon, had been forgiven by King Alaric for her crimes. She imagined that she should have felt impossible happiness at such a turn of events. She was free of Faserlaeh. She was free of the whips, the batons, and the guards. She was back in a world where she could see glorious color and foods had wondrous tastes. Beyond that she was a guest of the palace allowed to dress in fine silks and live in a luxurious suite. She should have felt like the luckiest woman in the world. She should have felt undeniable happiness. 

And yet, she felt like she was still a prisoner. She didn’t feel free and Sergeant Damon certainly didn’t help. Perhaps that was what the King intended for her. He might have forgiven her due to her Blessed status, but she had still burned down one of the temples and likely had cost him a fortune to rebuild it. She almost preferred Faserlaeh to this. At least in Faserlaeh she knew what to expect. Here, she had to guess which illusions of freedom might be real and which ones would crumble away to reveal something much worse.

“You’re here early,” she heard Sergeant Damon comment from the doorway.

“I didn’t think Gwen would mind. You’re here early for you as well,” Gavril’s voice carried so easily in her suite.

“I stood night watch,” Sergeant Damon explained.

There were another few minutes before Gavril walked back into the bedroom to come and find her. She heard the footsteps stop short and turned to see him looking over her very empty bookshelf. He turned to meet her eyes and raised an eyebrow. It was clear, he knew she had lied about being absorbed in a book for the last two days.

“Are you avoiding me for a reason?” He asked quietly kneeling down next to the armchair. She saw his gaze go to the dark circles under her eyes and his jaw tightened briefly. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m bound to my rooms until I can have escorts approved again,” she whispered. “I broke rules.”

“Where are your books?” He kept his voice barely audible and nodded to the bookshelf.

“Gone,” she shrugged. Gavril stood and strode to the doorway and then stopped before turning back again.

“We’re going on a walk today, you and I,” he said finally. She knew he was loud enough for Sergeant Damon to hear him as well. “I’ll drag you out kicking and screaming if I have to, book or no.” She recognized her own lie on his lips and realized he likely had wanted to go give Sergeant Damon a piece of his mind but had either remembered she was trying to handle this on her own or that she hadn’t asked him to step in yet. He didn’t wait for her to agree to anything before he strode back to the door and looked out at the guards. “Lady Gwendolyn will need an escort ready by the time breakfast is over. Should they not be ready, they can come and find us when they are. I am not taking ‘no’ for an answer today, Gwen,” he turned back towards her fully and winked so only she could see.

Keiran arrived when the food did as always. The change of guards happened shortly after but Sergeant Damon stayed to join them for breakfast while Aiden went to request an escort. Glancing at her sergeant she wondered if he knew Gavril was aware something was amiss. The man’s jaw was tight, and he rarely spoke, though both things were common for him in her rooms. 

“I had an interesting conversation with Daric yesterday,” Keiran looked up at Gwen as he spoke. “He said he was hoping I could speak to all of the Blessed to get them to all agree to a trip to Port Tythrenn for the unveiling of the new Temple of Solreth.” His dark blue eyes met her gray blue ones and immediately she felt a question come from outside of herself: would she be able to handle that sort of outing? She was reminded of the first time Keiran had fully met her eyes in the throne room and she had felt a question enter her mind that hadn’t come from her own thoughts. Was he aware he could do that or was he simply wondering it and she was catching his thoughts?

“When would this supposed outing be?” She traced a finger over the edge of her goblet.

“September,” Keiran told her. Two months. “We’ll take ships to shorten the journey but it will still take a little over a week to get there.”

“How long would we stay in Port Tythrenn?” She glanced up at Keiran.

“Two weeks. We’ll want to make it home before cold weather makes travel an annoyance at best,” he smiled at her. “Will that be acceptable to you?”

Gwen looked down at her plate. She didn’t want to go to Port Tythrenn at all. She didn’t want anything to do with the Temple of Solreth or the High Priest that had survived her fire and likely now headed the new temple. Beyond that Port Tythrenn had no love for her. The story had been spread that a careless ward had set the Temple on fire. How many knew her name in connection with that fire? How many knew the real story and knew it was Variel’s Chosen that had burned the Temple to the ground? She likely wouldn’t be well received on either front.

“Tell Prince Daric I would like to discuss my concerns with him personally and privately before I can agree,” she raised her head to meet Keiran’s eyes. Yes, he could be there too. She hoped when he met her eyes he could sense that thought. 

“I’ll relay your request,” he turned his attention to Gavril then. “Of course, you already agreed. And Ameia is all a tither about the shopping. Paxton said he wouldn’t mind a change of scenery and he convinced Edith that she might enjoy escaping her escort in a whole new setting,” Keiran grinned when Gavril did. “So with Gwen’s decision pending we are almost all set to get plans in order.”

“I imagine that taking sixty Royal Guard will be quite a feat,” Gavril looked to Sergeant Damon. “One squad for each Blessed? What do you think about that?”

“I think it would be best to cut down to half squads for the trip but I couldn’t imagine any of the men wanting to be left out of the Temple being unveiled. We are all sworn to Solreth and it is supposed to be the greatest of all of His temples,” Sergeant Damon fought back a yawn. Talk turned to the logistics of traveling with so many and the accommodation of so many. It carried them straight through breakfast. 

Sergeant Damon excused himself at the end of the meal and left half a minute before the escort arrived. Gavril took Gwen’s arm as she stood from her place and made a promise to Keiran he’d have her back on palace ground before dinner if Daric wanted to discuss things so soon.

“You and I are going into the city to enjoy some shopping,” he informed her as he led her out of the door. “Nic and I did some scouting the other day and found a very nice shop that supplies to alchemists and home brewers. They have whole shelves full of vials of oils, jars of powders, and bundles of herbs. I thought you’d like to go and explore, and then once I can tear you away, we’ll go find other things that peak our interests.” 

Gwen grinned up at Gavril. He was certainly trying to find things that he thought she was interested in. And she was interested in the supply shop. After all of these years she still found plants and the things she could do with them extremely fascinating and enjoyable. Despite the lack of sleep and the guards following them, she was fairly certain it was going to be a good day.


	8. Chapter 7

A little over a week after Gwen first told Keiran she wanted to discuss the trip to Port Tythrenn with Prince Daric, they still hadn’t met to discuss anything. Despite Keiran’s assurances that Prince Daric was simply easily distracted from meetings without his advisors constantly reminding him, she wondered if having the agreement of five other Blessed meant they didn’t really need her to agree to go and thus he didn’t find the discussion all that important. It was something she turned over in her mind as often as she had begun to turn over the strange experiences that happened when Keiran met her eyes fully and the information she had about her past on the scroll Edith had stolen for her.

Sergeant Damon hadn’t returned her books but Gavril had amended some of that by gifting her several books during their outing that sent them out shopping in Oleryn. She kept the books locked into a desk drawer along with the scroll of her time at Faserlaeh. She kept the key to that drawer on a ribbon around her neck tucked under her shirt.

She at least had worked out a plan with Aiden and Julian, her normal night guards about having her door open since it was now a rule that it had to be open and she couldn’t sleep with it closed anymore. What all three of them agreed on was that the door had to remain open, but Sergeant Damon hadn’t specified how open it had to be. The door remained open one inch at night so that her guards could press it open enough to check in on her if they needed to but weren’t invading her small amount of privacy too much. Sergeant Damon hadn’t stood in on the night watch since that night, nor did he check in during the late hours, so he hadn’t been able to discover their way around his rule. He did, however, have the unpleasant tendency to appear and stay for long periods of time during the day to observe her and his men. 

“Lady Gwen,” she looked up from her work at her desk to see Sergeant Damon glaring down at her. He had been in her rooms for an hour already but he hadn’t felt the need to interrupt her work at all. Once he realized she was giving him her attention he straightened the smallest amount possible and adjusted his tunic. “His Highness, Prince Daric, is here with Keiran to discuss your concerns about the Port Tythrenn trip.”

“Oh, I’ll just be a moment,” she looked back at her desk and started to stopper her inkwell and organize the papers she had been working on. She didn’t look up to see if went to relay her message. It was likely if Prince Daric and Keiran were in the sitting room, they could hear her just fine and didn’t need the message relayed. She wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t heard them. The books that Gavril had bought her were recipe guides for common household tinctures and she was going through them and marking the ones she knew and was cross referencing her botany book to see if there were any improvements that could be made to strengthen the tinctures or reduce any side effects. The work occupied her mind completely.

When her desk was cleaned up, she entered the sitting room to see Prince Daric with his back to her talking quietly with the guards at the door and Sergeant Damon while Keiran was setting down cups of tea at the table from a serving cart. She was curious about Prince Daric. He hadn’t checked in on her since he had assigned Sergeant Damon to her. She was sure he knew how frustrating the assignment was for his friend, but she wasn’t sure if he knew his friend was taking it out on his new charge.

Then Prince Daric turned around after a moment and caught sight of her. His eyes swept over her body and face before he smiled brightly. “You’re looking much better,” he told her finally. She smiled back at him. While she still wasn’t up to what she believed was a healthy weight, her eyes were no longer sunken in. Her ribs still showed but they were coming closer to be even with her abdomen. Her arms and legs looked less likely to snap if weight was put down on them wrong. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve made myself scarce. I wanted you to settle in without me looking over your shoulder every other minute.” From the table she heard Keiran snort. “Well, not directly looking over your shoulder anyway,” Prince Daric admitted with a true smile. “Shall we sit and discuss your concerns?”

Gwen spared a glance at Sergeant Damon and the guards which certainly didn’t go unnoticed by anyone in the room. In response, Prince Daric made a shooing motion at the three men by the door.

“You can’t possibly be serious,” Sergeant Damon snapped. “She’s under my protection by your order! I have a right to be in on this meeting!” His voice rose up with each statement and Gwen guessed if there was anything else to add, he’d be yelling.

“Ultimately she is under my protection,” Prince Daric reminded him calmly. Gwen stared at the Prince. Just like the last time she had heard Sergeant Damon try and argue with him, she found herself wondering if he knew this was an argument. “Lady Gwen requested this be a private meeting. If I find any information I believe you need to be made aware of, I’ll bring it to your attention after the meeting. Until then, I expect you and your men to guard the outside of the door,” he made the shooing motion again. Sergeant Damon glared him down for a long moment and then left with his men following behind him.

“I can’t recall him being this angry with you ever, even after you stole that girl, whatever her name was, out of his arms,” Keiran pointed out to Prince Daric after the door was closed. It took Gwen a moment to remember that the two men in her suite were brothers and the man outside of her door probably plotting how to make her life more miserable was practically a brother to at least the older of them. Prince Daric and Keiran didn’t look remotely alike. Prince Daric clearly took after his father, King Alaric, and Gwen guessed that Keiran took after the late Queen.

“You make me sound like I tried to take her from him. I didn’t intentionally steal Lady Mira from Damon,” Prince Daric turned to Gwen. “Don’t think of me as some sort of inconsiderate friend. And he got over it fairly quickly. He’ll get over this too,” he sat down at the table and waved for Gwen to do the same. “Eventually, he’ll stop trying to request he and his squad be returned to their proper place as my guards.”

“He’s still asking you to reinstate them?” Keiran sat up a little straighter.

“At least twice a day since I introduced him to her. Inside of the palace, I’m fine; I don’t need a guard. When I travel, he’ll be reinstated but I won’t be telling him that. He’ll think he’s gotten his way. He can sit and pout like a child throwing a tantrum all he likes for now.” Prince Daric turned his eyes to Gwen. “Well, what do I have to do to get you to come to Port Tythrenn with us?”

“My concerns are simple,” Gwen took the cup of tea that Keiran pushed at her. “Are you going to be making it a public display that the Blessed are in Port Tythrenn?”

“Naturally, we’ll be making it known that the Blessed are all there to support the unveiling of the new Temple of Solreth,” Prince Daric informed her.

“I see, and will you be announcing our names and patron gods?” She met his light blue eyes briefly and then looked down at her tea again.

“All of Dovania is aware of the names of the other Blessed. You’ll be the only new name for them.” The Prince replied.

“I’m sure you are aware that in Port Tythrenn I’m labeled as a terrorist by my name. At best only the few members of the Tythrenn Watch and the priests know that it wasn’t a negligent ward with a candle that burned down the temple. At worst, my name has gone down as the arsonist that snubbed one of the great gods. At the absolute worst, they believe that Variel’s Chosen wanted to burn that temple down and will do so again now that she’s no longer in Faserlaeh.” Gwen felt her cheeks burn with a blush. “I don’t know how much my name has been spread around or my Blessing for that matter with my crimes in that area. I don’t know if I will cause more problems than I’m worth.”

“You were absolved of those charges,” Prince Daric informed her. “And you have guards to protect you.”

“Absolving me of my crimes doesn’t mean that they are forgotten by the people of Port Tythrenn.” She reminded him. “Beyond my safety and the possible problems that could arise from my appearing in Port Tythrenn, I have my family to think about. Most of them were in residence in Port Tythrenn four years ago. They didn’t want a connection to me then and won’t want one now. They won’t appreciate my name being tossed around that city where possible connections might be drawn.” She blushed deeper. “Furthermore, I have no desire to push myself on the priests of Solreth that are opening this temple. They have no reason to believe good of me or I of them.”

“We won’t use your full name. Lady Gwen is all you go by here so it shouldn’t be hard to keep that name the only one we make public. I’ll make sure Gwendolyn Wood is kept away from any announcements and off the lips of all traveling with us,” Prince Daric met her eyes when she stared up at him. “Your family doesn’t concern me. If they haven’t had a concern to give for you, you shouldn’t spare any for them. They should be honored to have a Blessed as a family member. But if they truly concern you, we will make no connections for anyone to notice. I will be announcing you are Variel’s Chosen. If there are people out there that know who Variel’s Chosen was before and will connect your family to you, I cannot help that. You cannot help that and you shouldn’t avoid going based on that.”

“As for the priests of Solreth,” Keiran cut across. “Your interaction can be limited. You won’t have to do more than stand there during the unveiling and then you can leave.”

“I’m going a couple of weeks early to go over the final work and give it the Royal Seal of Approval. We’ll announce you and the others are coming long before you arrive. Should we sense trouble for you that we don’t believe your guards can handle, we’ll find somewhere else for you to be,” Prince Daric took his own cup of tea. “Is that acceptable?”

“I suppose you can’t do much else,” Gwen sighed. “I had planned to avoid the city for the rest of my life.”

“How is Damon working out for you? Are you finding his men satisfactory in their work?” Prince Daric asked.

“Your Highness,” Gwen started but the Prince raised a hand to silence her.

“Call me Daric, please,” he pressed.

“Daric, I have no problems believing you sent me the best guard. But I can’t help but feel they aren’t doing anything to their potential while standing in my doorway or following Gavril and me around from flower garden to flower garden.” She couldn’t tell Daric that his best friend was a tyrant now that she was sure he felt some sort of betrayal from the Crowned Prince at the reassignment.

“I have my reasons for assigning them to you. Mainly, Gwen, none of them have spent time as prison guards. Even amongst some of the more laid back squads in the Royal Guard we have men that cut their teeth as prison guards. In some cases, we have men that spent time in their training at Faserlaeh, though most of the guards that leave Faserlaeh tend to find space in the army.”

Gwen stared up at Daric though he wasn’t looking at her. There were guards from Faserlaeh amongst the men of the Royal Guard? She didn’t care about the guards that spent time at other prisons. Other prisons might have been bad but they didn’t hold the reputation as the worst. She wondered if any of them were the ones on her list. And there were men in the army too. There were at least two companies of the army stationed at the palace. How many of them were guards that had known her? Would her most recent tormenters from the prison come and seek posts with the Royal Guard in the future? 

“Can I,” she swallowed hard. He had every right to tell her no. “Can I have the names of the men at the palace that served at Faserlaeh?” She wanted to cross check her list and make sure that these men wouldn’t be problems for her in the future. What if they were on her list? What if they recognized her?

“What would you do with a list like that? Take revenge?” Daric’s eyes snapped up to her.

“No!” She sat up a little straighter, the screams of the priests that had burned in her fire echoed in her mind. “No, I want to do my best to avoid them. It would make me feel better to know who they are so I can stay away from them.”

“I’ll get you a list and where they are stationed.” He frowned. “Speaking of Faserlaeh, how is your power? Your magic? Any long term effects we need to attend to?”

“My half uncontrollable stone melting, people burning, cursed fire?” Gwen touched her bracelets as she asked. “It’s still there and it’s just like before. Sometimes I have no problem controlling it and other days it’s a struggle to keep it in.”

“I remember when Keiran first got his power. He had to learn how to fine tune it. Mostly he had to learn how to look at someone without meeting their eyes.” Daric settled back in his chair and slouched a little.

“So I wasn’t just imagining what happened when you met my eyes,” Gwen murmured.

“In a sense you were,” Keiran grinned. “Alonox... the God of dreams, of night, of sleep, and of imagination. I’m strongest with the imagination side of things. I can inspire thoughts if I choose to. But I can also inspire dreams, if I choose, and grant sleep, though that’s harder.”

“What can you do beside the Godsfyre?” Daric turned his question on her.

“Godsfyre?” Gwen caught onto the word and tasted it before she remembered where she had heard it before. “Solreth’s Fyre.”

“It seems the more accurate term is Godsfyre. If Variel’s Chosen can produce it then it doesn’t seem to belong to just Solreth anymore. Perhaps Variel can do so much more than we give her credit for,” Keiran patted her hand. “Have you ever done anything other than fire?”

“Once, I thought I had imagined it,” Gwen blushed. She had been eleven and had been set to scrubbing the temple steps on a very hot day. The priests had decided that it was the perfect time to shine up the temple because no one in their right mind was outside if they could help it. So they had sent her out to give the much worn marble steps a cleaning. After five minutes out in the sun she had started to feel faint. She had known that if she fainted on the steps she would be left out there to roast in the sun and then be punished later when they could finally come out without sweating through their robes. She had wished for a small breeze to cool her while she worked. She had felt a spark then, something tiny tugging inside of her, so small that she was sure she had imagined it. Then suddenly there was a slight breeze that played with her hair and her undyed cotton robes. She had thought perhaps the wind had picked up but she could see the wind stirred nowhere else. She had finished the steps and the priests had punished her anyway for unnaturally calling winds and causing disorder. “I called a very small breeze on a windless day.”

“So you can call winds and create Godsfyre,” Daric leaned forward, his eyes intent. “What else can you do?”

“Do all of the Blessed have power?” Gwen turned her question to Keiran.

“We don’t talk about it much because what we are is usually enough to unnerve or fascinate others. Most of what we can do is passive. Like when I meet your eyes, you get inspired by my thoughts. I don’t control that. I just don’t meet eyes directly anymore. Gavril masters any weapon he picks up and it stays mastered though he insists on training still. The only one that can still beat Gavril at all is Damon as a swordsman. But he’s has a natural talent with the sword. I recommend watching them sometime, it’s a beautiful display of swordplay between the two of them.” Keiran grinned. “Beyond the weapon mastery, Gavril can produce Solreth’s Fyre. His is tamer than yours though. He can control it.”

“Perhaps it’s not proper to rename it to Godsfyre then. Perhaps I have something different,” she mentally poked at the flame inside of her wondering what made it uncontrollable.

“Perhaps, but I think you should talk to Gavril about how he controls his,” Keiran picked up his tea to sip at it. “Ameia passively makes anything she touches absolutely pleasing to the eye. She can arrange flowers in a vase and all of court thinks she’s made the most beautiful arrangement in the world. She can style someone else’s hair before a ball and suddenly that hairstyle is the new style but no one can quite match it. Actively, she can heal. She finds time to go down to the infirmary here and help out when she wants to do something other than look pretty and make things pretty. Paxton sees what people try and hide. He won’t announce it when he sees you, but he’ll know,” Keiran nodded to her bracelets. “It’s why he unnerves most people. Actively he heals the soul.”

She sat there for a moment and realized Keiran was done though he hadn’t mentioned Edith and her powers. Gwen waited yet another moment before she leaned forward slightly. “And Edith?”

“I can’t say for certain about Edith. We haven’t spoken much. I met her briefly and she has disappeared conveniently before I visit her each time. I think her passive ability is to blend with her surroundings.” He admitted.

“And possibly to move silently though that might just be talent,” Gwen thought out loud.

“You’ve met her,” Daric sat up straighter.

“Briefly,” Gwen sipped at her tea. “She had it in her mind to meet me and she did.”

“I thought Damon was against her being in your rooms. He had a fit when he thought she disappeared from her guards and thought she was coming here,” Daric was smiling as he said it, as if it were all one big joke.

“I would consider it a personal favor if you don’t tell him,” Gwen met Daric’s eyes and then Keiran’s. “I like her.” Both men gave identical grins. For the first time she could see some sort of resemblance between the two of them as brothers.

“My lips are sealed, My Lady,” Daric rose. “I’ll get you your list. Any other concerns that you have please send a note. I’ll be happy to address what I can. And do try to get on with Damon. I know he can be a stubborn pain, but he’s truly a good man when he gets his head out of his arse.” Then Daric opened the door and left. 

Promptly Sergeant Damon and her two guards came back in. Sergeant Damon’s eyes were narrowed on Gwen the moment he entered the room.

“It’s not her fault he threw you out,” Keiran snapped from beside her. Gwen realized this was one of the first times Keiran had seen this sort of look from the sergeant directed towards her. She knew he’d likely be surprised to know the look was common. “If he had thought you needed to be in this meeting he would have ignored her request for privacy. Don’t go making things harder on her for your little arguments with Daric.”

“There was nothing of security importance, hmm?” Sergeant Damon’s glare met her eyes.

“I’m sure Daric will get to telling you about it,” Gwen stood. She could at least make him feel somewhat included by giving him what she had deemed as important to her security. “But since you are here now, they are going to put feelers out in Port Tythrenn about my arrival. Should they believe there is a security threat larger than your squad can handle, I’ll be redirected elsewhere.” She saw Sergeant Damon blink several times before the tension he had been holding in his shoulders dropped and he seemed to relax slightly.

“And why would there be a threat to you bigger than my men and I can handle?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at her. This was not the first time he seemed to be indicating he knew he didn’t have the full story of what her history was and he wanted to know.

Gwen at least had an answer for that question that didn’t include her crimes or her past four years. Her time at the Temple of Solreth had taught her a lot about the people of the city. “Solreth is the most worshipped deity in Port Tythrenn,” Gwen said finally. “The priests of Solreth there press that law, order, and justice are the greatest things that make us better than animals. Variel is the enemy. Variel is chaos and disorder, the things that the priests claim make us animals. You know the scriptures, I’m sure. They interpret them a little more… harshly, yes, that’s a good word for it. Disorder and chaos have to be hunted out and eradicated before it can convince the good citizens to fall from grace of Solreth.” She was half reciting lines that had been told to her and half substituting in explanations that Sergeant Damon might understand. “In Port Tythrenn, Variel, and by extension myself, are considered the worst possible sort of being because we weaken Solreth.”

“That’s absurd,” Keiran’s voice came from behind her. “Law, Order, and Justice can’t exist without Chaos, Disorder, and Discord to form from. Variel and Solreth aren’t rivals. They are siblings. They need each other. They feed off each other. It says so in the scriptures.”

“In the scriptures you have here in Oleryn, no doubt. The scriptures they read from in Port Tythrenn say something along the lines of ‘One day Solreth will triumph over Variel and all the lands will know Peace.’”

“I’ve read that book, it was written by a priest but it’s not scripture,” Sergeant Damon was frowning at her, but, for once, she didn’t feel like it was about him being angry and frustrated with her. “They are teaching false scripture.”

“They are doing what they think best uplifts their deity,” Gwen sat back down and patted a chair for Sergeant Damon to join her and Keiran. This could end up being a longer conversation than she had intended and certainly the longest conversation she had ever had with Sergeant Damon. He hesitated a moment and then sat down. “You heard me say I was a ward at the Temple of Solreth in Port Tythrenn. I was a ward there because of my Blessing. I’m sure it was thought to be what was best for me to best contain me and my unruliness. Variel’s Temple is in complete disrepair there because the priests have it going about that any worshippers of Variel are giving her power. Turn your face from Variel and give your attention completely to Solreth, and you might just live in a time where Solreth triumphs and we see everlasting peace. Essentially, it’s practically forbidden within Port Tythrenn to even mention her name except to send a prayer to Solreth in hopes he triumphs over her or to keep her at bay.”

“That is a big concern for your security then,” Sergeant Damon glanced back at his men at the door. “Perhaps it would be best to request not to go at all.”

“Things might have changed now that a good number of those priests that survived the fire refuse to return to that location. Only the High Priest and a few others from that particular temple will be at the new Temple of Solreth. The others have relocated,” Keiran reached over to touch Gwen’s hand. “We’ll feel around to find out what the general air is. Perhaps all of your worry is confined to the Temple. You rarely left it when you were there.”

“That’s true,” Gwen admitted. “So there, you’re all caught up,” she turned to Sergeant Damon. He blinked at her and then glanced back at his men.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. The men and I usually go altogether to the Temple of Solreth on Sundays for worship service, but since we’ve been assigned to you we have had to split up a bit. If you were to go with us…” Sergeant Damon glanced up at her.

“If I can help it, I will never step foot in any Temple of Solreth again,” she informed him. Gwen watched his jaw set back into its tight line. She had a feeling this was his way of trying to reach out to her for something that might ease tensions and she had just stepped all over it. “However, you can certainly leave me locked in this suite for whatever time frame that you need each Sunday. I don’t mind.”

“We can’t leave you unguarded,” Sergeant Damon started to stand, his face composed into a stony state.

“She has every right to avoid any Temple of Solreth,” Keiran stood. “Alonox’s worshippers do a midnight service on Saturdays. I can come and spend some time with her while you all go to the Temple.” Keiran gave her a reassuring smile.

“If anything happens to her on your watch…” Sergeant Damon threatened.

“I believe I escorted her just fine to Ameia’s rooms and back again without the world crumbling above our heads,” Keiran stood. “Now, if you will excuse me my wonderful Chaos Blessed Sister,” he leaned in to brush his lips over her cheek. “I have a list to compile for you that Daric won’t remember once he gets back to his rooms.” 

Keiran left and Gwen glanced up at Sergeant Damon. “It’s not that I want to deny you going to the temple altogether. Like I said, I’d be fine for however long you all need to take to go together each Sunday. I know how important that is for men in your career path. It’s just that, if you knew what it was like to have been Variel’s Chosen in the Temple of Solreth in Port Tythrenn you wouldn’t ask it of me unless you wished me to suffer.” She rose as she felt her tongue getting the better of her again. “But perhaps, since you do hate me, that was your intention.” She started to walk back to her desk. 

Sergeant Damon’s eyes were wide and staring directly at her. His jaw had dropped slightly. He looked utterly shocked. Perhaps he was surprised she had spoken to him in such a way. Perhaps he was surprised she had called him out on his feelings about her. She found for a few brief seconds, she didn’t care. Her mind was already back on the notes she had been working on before Daric had interrupted her for their meeting.


	9. Chapter 8

“Gavril?” Gwen sat at breakfast with Keiran, Gavril, and a very silent Sergeant Damon.

Sergeant Damon hadn’t spoken a word to her in the three days since she had had her meeting with Daric. His jaw was now permanently set in a tight line and his posture more rigid than ever. He had been avoiding her though he spent roughly half of his day in her suite with the men of his squad and made a point to be on every escort she requested. She wasn’t sure what she made of it. Part of her was happy he hadn’t added any more rules and hadn’t spoken to her, but another part of her was afraid it was building into something worse. She wasn’t even sure what exactly had caused the silence. Perhaps it was her refusal to go to the temple with the squad that he was so put off by. Perhaps it was because she had called out his blatant hate of her, and now he no longer felt the need to attempt to converse with her or around her. If that was the case, she wasn’t sure it was much of a change. He hadn’t spoken much before either except to bark rules. 

She wasn’t sure why exactly he was spending much more time around in her suite with her or on her escorts either. She didn’t converse with her guards when he was there. Perhaps it was his way of ensuring she wasn’t friendly with them anymore. She couldn’t make them like her if she couldn’t interact with or talk to them. Though that didn’t really feel like his aim this time. He just seemed to be watching her. It was odd. And even now, when she addressed Gavril, he turned his solemn eyes towards her along with everyone else to watch her.

“Yes, My Dear?” Gavril gave her a sunny smile.

“Don’t call me that,” she wrinkled her nose at the name. “The King kept calling me that when I met him. I didn’t like it from him, and I don’t like it from you.”

“Of course, Gavril isn’t trying to bait you into speaking by doing it,” Keiran rolled his eyes at her. 

“I had my reasons for not wanting to speak to him,” she retorted to Keiran. “Until that point, I hadn’t spoken in nearly a year.”

“That sounds awful,” Keiran shuddered.

“Now there’s an idea. Perhaps you should give it a go, Keir. Think of it as a time to listen to others,” Gavril teased before turning his attention to Gwen ignoring Keiran as he faked indignation at the thought of Gavril telling him to stay silent for a year, earning a laugh from the guards. “Yes, My Wonderful Chaos Blessed Sister?”

“Keiran might have mentioned, in passing, that you produce Solreth’s Fyre,” she cut right to the heart of the matter. It had taken three days to gather the courage to bring it up. She knew if she didn’t get it out quickly, she’d steer the conversation away from her own intentions.

“Godsfyre,” Gavril corrected her. “And yes, though I don’t like to do it indoors to prove it.”

“I’m not asking you to prove it,” Gwen bit back a smile. She believed him and she believed Keiran. She actually had some sort of trust in them and that was saying a lot for the month she had been at the palace. “I was hoping…,” he was giving her an encouraging smile but the words dried up in her throat. She took a sip of her juice and tried again. “I need help learning to control my power.” She was admitting weakness and she didn’t like it one bit, especially in front of Sergeant Damon and his men.

“I would have thought that since you have held God Blessed power the longest amongst us that you had already mastered control of your power. The only leaking of your power I have ever seen is your eyes,” Gavril was frowning at her.

“My eyes?” Gwen barely defeated the urge to run and look in the mirror. Her eyes were leaking power?

“I doubt you’ve ever noticed, but your eyes change color. They shift from the dullest of grays to a bright blue. I doubt I’ve even seen the brightest shades out of them yet,” Gavril informed her calmly. “I suspect it depends on your mood.” Gwen blushed and looked down at her plate wanting to keep her eyes from being looked at.

“Well, regardless of my extended time with my God Blessed power, any ‘training’ I’ve had in control is suppressing it so that it doesn’t leak out,” Gwen reached up to run a finger along the edge of her plate. “My eight years with this power inside of me have been spent building barriers to keep it from responding to anger, frustration, fear, pain…” she didn’t dare look up though she knew she needed to add more. Gavril needed to understand why she didn’t have control of herself yet. “If ever it leaked out past my control and my barriers the consequences were…” she tried to think of the word and only managed to shake her head. Her certainly got the idea, she hoped. “The one time my Godsfyre escaped my barriers I was unable to control it. So, I was hoping, since you have control of your power, that I might be able to ask you for some pointers.” She kept looking down at her lap rather than up at Gavril. She didn’t want to see and pity in those golden eyes or listen to him refuse her because he couldn’t help her. What if no one could help her? How long before it escaped her again and did more damage?

“I’ll be happy to help,” Gavril touched her hand to get her to look up at him. “We can start tomorrow after breakfast.” He reached up to cup her face in a tender gesture as she stared at him. “It’s all about will power and you have that in excess. I doubt it will be much of an issue controlling it.”

After breakfast was over, Gwen returned to her desk and unlocked the drawers with her key. Sergeant Damon was still in the sitting room with the other guards. He hadn’t spoken throughout all of breakfast, even with Gavril and Keiran. Neither of them seemed to want to comment on his silence either. It was no matter to her at this exact moment that he had stayed in her rooms. She was studying about making balms from the recipe books Gavril had bought her and was cross referencing the ingredients to try and come up with her own recipes for various ailments like shrinking scars and pain relief for aching muscles.

She had written a few recipes she was sure were viable ones. She had those set aside for, well, she didn’t know what exactly. It wasn’t as if she was in a position to try to make any of those things. She didn’t have access to the materials or the equipment to do such things. In reality it was a way to occupy her brain only. She had to remind herself time and again she could only do this sort of stuff in theory. Each time she had to remind herself that she was simply filling empty time with pointless work, she felt herself deflate a little.

As the noon hour rolled around a thought struck her. King Alaric had said he encouraged her to pursue her own interests. Perhaps it was something she could ask to have funded into her room. She didn’t need the bedroom area as a bedroom. The servant quarters worked just fine as her bedroom. The too big space the four-poster bed currently occupied could essentially become one large workroom. With her desk and bookshelf already there she was already making a head start on that particular venture.

“Lady Gwen?” She heard Sergeant Damon’s voice for the first time in three days. When she looked up from her work, he was standing just outside of the doorframe looking at her. “Midday arrived nearly ten minutes ago.” Of course he had had to speak to her this time. Normally she was aware of when meals arrived. Though she did think if he was avoiding speaking to her, he could have sent in one of the other guards to remind her that she needed to eat.

She frowned as she put her work aside. She’d rather take midday at her desk rather than at the table so she could keep working. She could draw up plans for the workshop to present to Daric the next time he was around. She could have written up supply lists and factored out the costs from her allowance. Then she glanced up at Sergeant Damon and realized her folly. She certainly couldn’t eat at her desk. It wasn’t proper dining. If she tried, it would likely become a rule. And speaking of rules, it was probably too much nonsense for Sergeant Damon to handle if she had a workshop put in place of a proper bedroom. He would probably deny her access to it the next time he got frustrated with her.

With a sigh she cleaned up her workspace and went to sit down at the table. She would have to speak with Keiran about possibly finding a space that wasn’t her room in which she could have a workshop. If he thought it was possible, then she would write up those lists and ask Keiran to present it to Daric when Daric had another free moment. It would likely be weeks after she requested to speak with the Crowned Prince that he would remember to come and see her and another month or two before he remembered her request. 

Keiran had been quick to tell her that the list she had requested from his brother would likely not be made by his brother for another several months, if he remembered it at all. Keiran had gone through the trouble of doing it himself and had already handed her the copy of all of the names of the Royal Guards present in the palace that had served at Faserlaeh as well as all of the men in the army companies stationed at the palace that had been guards as well. Overall there were forty-six names on that list. So far she hadn’t had the courage to cross check those names to the ones on her list. She wanted to be alone when she did that and she was never alone anymore unless she was in the bath or changing her clothes. Even then she wondered if Edith would reappear. But she had the list and that was what was important. When she felt safe in doing so, she had the option to find out if her monsters of Faserlaeh were at the palace as well.

As she applied herself to her midday meal, she turned her thoughts away from monsters and workshops and alchemic concoctions towards the next morning where Gavril had given her the smallest bit of hope that she could possibly one day control her power.

The next morning after breakfast Gwen found herself being brought outside to where an escorted waited of both Gavril’s and her own guard. With the exception of the two in her rooms and her two night guards, all of her guard was there including Sergeant Damon. Gavril’s guard was smaller but he still rolled his eyes at them.

“You’re going outside of the city limits, that means we come too,” Nic’s tart reply came quick.

“Can you ride, Gwen?” Gavril asked with a nod to one of the two riderless horses.

“The carriage I took from the port to here is the closest I’ve ever been to a horse,” Gwen sighed.

“Well, we aren’t going far and it’s nothing so hard as what you work on at your desk each night,” Gavril winked at her. “Come on, I’ll show you how to mount up and the rest is easy.”

Mounted and stable, Gwen was guided by Gavril through the simple ways to communicate with a horse whenever she wanted to go and stop or turn a certain direction. It really wasn’t that hard and the horse Gwen found herself on was very easy to work with. It responded to her quickly. Once that was complete, Gavril had her turn her horse and move with him to the head of the line to start the procession out of town. 

“Why are we leaving the city limits?” Gwen managed to ask as they went at a slow walk through the palace gates.

“You and I both produce Godsfyre, highly dangerous, stone melting, burn someone’s skin off in seconds Godsfyre. The palace isn’t equipped to handle someone that has the slightest chance of losing control. And the palace grounds are usually too full of spectators that could possibly get hurt. So we are going out to the foothills where few people ever glance.” Gavril reached over and patted her hand.

It took an hour to reach the spot Gavril had wanted and it was off the road enough that no one would accidentally see them and come over to watch. Gwen handed over her reins to one of her guards and followed Gavril well away from them down into a valley between hills. They sat down on the soft grass facing each other.

“Forget them, forget me, forget everything else,” Gavril started, his voice soft and reasonable. “Close your eyes. Find where your power is.”

That wasn’t hard. She knew exactly where her power was. She often called it a candle burning inside of her core but she knew there was more to it than that. She was simply aware of the Godsfyre inside of her and always felt its flame. The wind she had called had felt like something different but she hadn’t really explored it. Exploring her power in depth had never been an option. Even now as Gavril encouraged her to let her power out in a quiet, reassuring voice that reached through to her while she looked inside, she felt her mental barriers lock it further in place. 

Gwen examined her barriers. In her mind she saw them as a series of glass cases she had built up around her candle. There seemed to be no cracks she could exploit to pull the power through, and yet, she knew some days the power was closer to the surface than others so the barriers didn’t always work. Right now they seemed far more solid.

“I wonder,” she heard Gavril’s quiet voice break through her exploration.

She opened her eyes to look at him and realized the sun was now high in the sky. It had been at least two hours of her sitting there visibly doing nothing. She half wondered if her audience up on the hills was bored of watching nothing happen.

“You wonder what?” Gwen asked when she realized Gavril hadn’t continued on in his statement.

“Perhaps you need to see Godsfyre being controlled in order to realize it can be done. Your barriers are strong. Even I can feel them holding your power back right now.” Gavril stood and stepped back from her. “Do you want to see?”

Gwen stared at him. She wanted to see it happen, yes. She wanted to know that Godsfyre could be controlled. But part of her was afraid. Godsfyre was terrifying. 

“I promise you that you will be safe.” He spared a glance up to the top of the hill where their escort sat.

“Then why do you look nervous?” Gwen watched as he glanced up at the hilltop again.

“I don’t like showing off at all,” he blushed. “And they haven’t ever seen me use my power.” He nodded up the hill. “I haven’t even shown Nic yet.”

She was surprised. He hadn’t even shown his sweetheart what he was capable of. Maybe he was worried it would scare his guards, his friends, his sweetheart away from him. It had certainly scared people away from her. “You don’t have to do this.” She stood to be closer to his level. “I just need to figure out what I need to do to work through my barriers.”

Gavril shook his head and opened up his left palm to face upwards. A seed of Godsfyre appeared in his open hand starting as a blue-white drop that gathered oranges, reds, and yellows as it grew larger. When it reached the size of Gwen’s head it stopped growing and Gavril gave her a small smile. He moved his right hand over the ball and made a motion it pull it between his hands to stretch it. The ball of Godsfyre responded to his movements easily.

Gwen stared as Gavril went through a range of motions and his power followed his movements. He was truly controlling his power. Godsfyre could be controlled. She found a beauty in it that was surprising, more so because she realized that she was no longer afraid. And then Gavril turned back to her.

“Come here,” he ordered. She didn’t hesitate. “Hold out your hand,” he grinned down at her. “Come on, Chaos Girl, time to see what you can do.” She couldn’t help but smile in response. She felt a confidence grow inside of her. Gavril had proven it could be controlled. She could have control and Gavril would teach her. She held out her hands.

The ball of Godsfyre dropped down into her hands and she felt mild warmth but not the skin searing pain that a normal person would have felt. Her power inside of her responded and she felt it release like a caged animal aware it was finally free. It rushed out to meet the ball of Godsfyre in her hands. She felt it connect and then she could only remember flashes of images from the next few moments.

The ball of Godsfyre lost its original color as it turned a purplish pink. It compacted inward down to the size of her palm and then it exploded outwards. She felt the impact of her body against the ground and heard shouting from somewhere. 

“Stay back!” She heard Gavril yell.

Gwen realized her eyes were closed and forced them open. Around her she saw Godsfyre raining down from the sky. After a moment she saw Gavril lean down over the top of her. “Are you alright?”

“Did I make it rain fire?” Gwen found her voice.

“Only above us. Nowhere else,” Gavril reached a hand down to her. “Anything broken? You hit the ground pretty hard.” She managed to shake her head as she stared around her at the fire burning holes into the grass and making tiny craters in the dirt under. “Good. So, let’s try again.” Her eyes snapped back to Gavril.

Again? Again! Was he insane? She had just knocked herself down, him down, and made it rain destructive Godsfyre. And he wanted her to try _again_?

“Come on, Chaos Girl, you need to learn control and you won’t learn it by suppressing it. But maybe we try a little less of your power this time.” He chuckled and produced a small seed of his Godsfyre. “It looked like you let all of your control go. You still need to hold control. Think of it like…” he looked around. “Like your tinctures you’re studying. You only add a small measured amount of each herb. You don’t add everything.”

She understood that reference and she certainly knew it made sense. But it wasn’t a matter of her adding just a small amount of power. It was a matter of holding back the larger amount of her power to release only a small amount. She couldn’t just take a tiny pinch from her power like a pinch of dried herbs from a jar. Could she? Perhaps if she shaped her mind to make pinching fingers she could try that. Then she could draw a small amount down her arm like she was threading a needle. It was worth a shot so she nodded to Gavril who dropped his little seed of Godsfyre into her hand.

Instantly her power leapt to meet the fingers she had formed with her mind. She grasped only a small amount of it and tried to thread it down her arm. For a moment she thought it was working and then a dam released inside of her and her power rushed down her arm like a tidal wave. She jerked her arm trying to keep her power from connecting with Gavril’s little ball of Godsfyre. Instead of stopping, it shot the ball of Godsfyre into the air where it burst and rained down little globs of white hot flames over the entire small valley they were in.

“Well, that was pretty,” Gavril teased. “And we didn’t get knocked down. Tell me what happened.” He heard her out as she explained the internal side of her power. “Well it follows your motions at least,” Gavril sighed. “Let’s try again. Practice, practice, practice… that’s how we’ll get you through this.”

For the next two hours Gwen only succeeded in holding back the rush of power for fractions of a second longer before it burst from her to meet Gavril’s little globe of Godsfyre. The results varied. Most of the time it rained fire around them as the ball exploded either in her hand or from where she managed to throw it. Twice it produced enough force to send her back onto her rear several feet away and knock Gavril down. Both times Gavril had had to order the guards watching them to keep their distance.

Each attempt was followed with Gavril checking in on her and the words: “Again, Chaos Girl.”

Gwen still thought he was insane but he seemed to view what was happening as progress. He even began to point out how pretty the fire rain was compared to regular rain while blatantly ignoring the havoc it was doing to the grass and the dirt under it. 

“Once more, Chaos Girl, and then we can stop and eat something,” Gavril informed her with a sunny smile. “Let’s make this one count.” He created a larger ball of Godsfyre and placed it between her open palms.

Gwen held the ball of glowing red, orange, blue, and white destructive Godsfyre between her hands for a moment. It was beautiful, when it wasn’t burning down one of the Great Gods’ temples and burning people to death. She felt her power rush to meet it and held it back with a shield she had created in her mind. She only wanted to let a small amount through. Just a small amount. She had gotten so close the last time. 

The smallest tendril was snaking down her arm wanting to join what she held in her hands. Just a fraction further. It was almost there. The small tendril of her power flowed out through her palm to merge with the ball to add pink, purple, and silver to the already existing rainbow of colors inside. She looked up at Gavril and saw him beaming at her. She had done it! She had held back enough to only let a small amount through! It was the first step. She had managed the first step! She felt a giggle rise to her lips. She had done it! Control was possible for her!

Her power inside of her flared at her laughter, bursting past her control with its own joy. She felt it rushing to join the Godsfyre in her hands and tried to slam it back. Like water it flowed around her barriers and continued on. She tried to bring her hands together the way Gavril had to smother out the flames before too much of her power could add to it. It flattened and twisted in her hold like an animal squirming for freedom. Her power reached it and it burst from her hold sending her flying backwards with a hard thump to the ground.

“Gwen, stay down!” She heard Gavril call to her as she shifted to push herself up. Something in his voice told him it wasn’t raining Godsfyre this time.

Gwen pushed herself up enough to look up at what she had wrought. A Godsfyre cyclone twisted between them standing twenty feet tall. The Godsfyre whipped around the inside in threads of every color she had ever seen. Slowly she became aware this wasn’t just Godsfyre anymore. It was sucking in the winds around them, adding to its already monstrous power.

“Gwen! Head down now!” She heard Gavril shout over its roar. Clumps of dirt and grass were being ripped from the ground. It picked up rocks from under the soil and spit them back out. It was moving. It was moving away from her, towards Gavril. She ignored his shouts for her to stay still and jumped to her feet. This was her power. Her terrifying, heart stopping, deadly power and she needed to at least try before she let it kill someone this time.

She reached out to her power inside of it and tugged it back. Godsfyre couldn’t hurt her. She had learned that over the course of the day. It fought her as she dragged it away. It spit debris at her as it fought. She was oblivious to the cuts and bruises she was getting as she held it away from Gavril and tried to think of how to undo it. It edged closer to her and she let it, knowing it was getting further from Gavril. She would protect him. She wouldn’t let her power end his life the way she had let it end the lives of those priests. Solreth would not hold this death on his list of the ways she had personally attacked him. The winds came closer and she felt their strength pushing her backwards, making her lose focus. Strong arms enclosed around her and she looked away from the cyclone of Godsfyre to see Gavril’s golden eyes were huge as he looked down at her. 

“It’s both of our powers. We do this together.” Though it was clear he was just as scared as she was, he kept her anchored down and she could feel him trying to hold it in place too, calling his power back to him, trying to undo what his power had become.

The cyclone advanced on them faster now. A sharp pain in her leg made her gasp but Gavril’s arms kept her upright. They needed to stop its spinning. Gwen found her power inside of the cyclone and willed it to twist the other way. Gavril seemed aware of what she was doing and she felt his power shift to follow hers. The cyclone in front of them slowed for only a moment before it wrenched out of her hold. Gavril’s arms were ripped from around her and for a brief moment she was flying through the air before all went dark.


	10. Chapter 9

Damon

Lord Sergeant Damon of Terrowyn stared down at the devastation taking place in the valley below with his own bit of panic. The cyclone itself was enough to make a brave man balk. But they had watched it throw Gavril, the Sun Blessed, nearly twenty feet. And Lady Gwen, with her small size, had stood little chance once Gavril had been ripped away from her. She had flown nearly fifty feet to roll up the base of a hill at the opposite end of the small valley.

Silently he was cursing himself, Gavril, and Lady Gwen. He cursed himself because he knew they were not supplied for these types of injuries. They were an hour’s ride from the city. They were without field medical kits. They were without a way to transport a man of Gavril’s size back to the palace unconscious. There was the option to toss him over the back of a horse and tie him down, but that added the issue of the people panicking with the well-recognized Sun Blessed came back through the capital looking possibly dead.

Which led him to why he cursed Gavril. The man had been so assuring that Lady Gwen would be fine. All it took was willpower and certainly even Damon had believed Lady Gwen possessed that enough to control a little magic. So they hadn’t brought more than a few supplies for meals and comfort while they waited away from the dangerous Godsfyre. Beyond that fact was the fact Gavril could have run. He had been on their side of the valley when the cyclone had appeared from between Lady Gwen’s palms. But he hadn’t run. He hadn’t tried to get to safety. The damned Sun Blessed had stayed put to try and tell Lady Gwen to stay down to protect herself and then had gone to assist her when she failed to listen. Or perhaps she had been unable to hear him over the roaring wind.

Cursing Lady Gwen wasn’t a new thing. He had cursed her since the day Daric had approached him and had asked Damon to accompany him on a short walk. They had gone to Lady Gwen’s rooms but she hadn’t been there. It was then that Daric had so kindly informed him that he and his men were being removed from their place as the Elite Royal Guard of the Crowned Prince Daric of Moardwyn of Dovania and were being placed with Lady Gwendolyn. He had known before that point that Lady Gwendolyn was not a Lady in the least. Gossip had gone through the barracks that the King had brought in another Blessed and this one had been an underfed peasant girl that had had to be given a bath upon arrival and a fresh set of clothes in order to be presentable to be in the presence of the King.

Damon resented Lady Gwen. He and his men were the best. They had been awarded their positions after years of hard work of honing their skills. They deserved to be the guard of the Crowned Prince. They did not deserve the obvious demotion down to peasant minding. He had pleaded with Daric day after day for his men to be reinstated in their proper place. Each time Daric had treated him like a stray palace dog that had wandered into his path. How nice of him to visit but he didn’t belong there. It had left Damon more than frustrated with the whole situation. So cursing Lady Gwen wasn’t a new thing.

But he cursed her now for her lack of control of her power. He cursed her for not listening to Gavril to stay down on the ground. He cursed her for not running when she had seen what she had wrought. He cursed her for creating something his men could not protect her from. He cursed her for being so light that she had practically flown through the air when the cyclone had picked her up. He cursed her for being on the far end of the valley. He cursed her a thousand times over for things he knew she couldn’t control. He cursed her for his cursing of her.

A shout drew his attention away from the scene below and the curses that were occupying his mind while he waited for the cyclone to die down. Sergeant Nic was struggling against the grips of several of his own men as he tried to get down the hill. That was another problem. Damon had known long before Lady Gwen arrived that Gavril and Nic were sweethearts. It was obvious when one knew what to look for. He hadn’t bought Gavril’s show of Lady Gwen being his sweetheart but he had tried to get Lady Gwen to admit they weren’t sweethearts so his men could hear it.

While Damon believed there was nothing wrong with two men being lovers, he believed that Nic had taken leave of his senses when he had started a relationship with his own charge. It was true that Gavril didn’t need much of a guard. He was the Sun Blessed and could manage pretty much any physical attacks and he wielded Godsfyre when it came to attacks he couldn’t handle with a weapon. They had just seen an impressive display of Gavril’s control of the Godsfyre that morning before Lady Gwen had started making it rain the deadly flames around the valley.

That Nic was nearly out of his mind trying to reach his lover proved Damon’s point that a relationship with a charge was a bad thing. He knew that wasn’t the reason Nic and Gavril kept their relationship quiet even from the rest of the men charged with Gavril’s safety. While they were a good lot, most men that worked in the Guard refused to take orders from someone they viewed as incapable. For some reason being attracted to other men seemed to be considered as a way that a man was incapable of leadership. Damon hadn’t told Nic that he knew of the relationship but this seemed to be a time to remind Nic of the facts in order to get his head back on straight.

“Nic,” he turned fully towards the man and stepped forward. The other men released their Sergeant when Damon took a hold of his arm. “Come, we need to talk strategy for when that thing down there dies down. We don’t have the supplies we need.” He gently pulled the man away from the hilltop though his green eyes stayed staring even after there was no way he could see Gavril anymore. “Listen to me,” Damon kept his voice low even though they were far enough away from the other men. “You won’t be any good to Gavril if you get yourself burned to death trying to rescue him. That isn’t just wind, it’s full of Godsfyre. He wouldn’t even have a body to mourn at the end of it. And it’s partially his Godsfyre; he’d be devastated to know he had caused your death. Would you really do that to your sweetheart?”

At the word ‘sweetheart’ Nic stiffened and then turned his eyes towards Damon. Yes, he knew exactly what could happen if his secret got out. Damon hadn’t meant to alarm him so but he was happy to see Nic sober up a little.

“I’m not going to out the two of you. But pull yourself together. Gavril is strong. The most he’s looking at is a few bumps and a knock to the head. Maybe a broken bone somewhere if all of his muscle didn’t cushion it.” He gave Nic a smile trying to get him to share in the humor.

“And I suppose you are so calm because if Lady Gwen is dead down there you’ll go back to Prince Daric’s guard without another day of begging?” Nic whispered tearing his arm out of Damon’s hold.

Damon blinked at Nic. Nic wasn’t a hostile man. He was normally a calm and good humored man. He didn’t make accusations. He was one of the most easy going sergeants in the Royal Guard while still maintaining one of the best squads. He normally kept his thoughts to himself if they were even remotely negative. It had bothered him when Lady Gwen had so blatantly told him she believed he hated her and wanted her to suffer. He wasn’t that much of an ass. Yes, he had been frustrated and perhaps he had been harsh. But he wasn’t cruel. He hadn’t found a way to refute Lady Gwen’s opinion of his views of her but he could attempt to correct Nic’s.

“I am worried about her,” Damon admitted finally. He was worried about the woman lying on the other side of the valley. She was a small being and she had only just begun to add fat onto her body. She had no cushioning from a landing like that or from the debris the cyclone had tossed at them before. He had seen something tear open her leg before Gavril had been ripped away. They needed bandages for that. Did they have bandages? No, once again, they didn’t have any medical supplies. They would need to find something to bind up her leg at least. He didn’t want to even think about if it was broken. They didn’t have anything that could double for a splint. “If she’s dead, I have failed in my duty to protect her. If she’s injured, and she’s injured at best, we have nothing by way of proper supplies.”

“I know. Gods, how are we going to move Gavril if he isn’t alright? We can’t fling him over a horse. The people would panic.” Nic glanced back at the hilltop.

“We need a carriage or a wagon with a covering. We need to have at least him out of the public eye and laying down or sitting down. We should send a man back to request one.” Damon felt his body relax. Practical planning always helped him ease his own anxiety. If he had plans, the ‘what ifs’ that plagued him would quiet down.

“Gavril might take a whole carriage or wagon himself. He’s a lot of man,” Nic blushed faintly as he said it.

“If that proves true, I’ll take Lady Gwen with me on my mount. It’s not ideal but she’s not recognizable to the common population yet so no one will panic at the sight of her,” Damon ran a hand through his hair.

“Men, we need messengers. One to go back to the palace and request a carriage or covered wagon, whichever is ready the fastest,” Nic raised his voice to make his orders. “We need someone to go do whatever it takes to get the healers at the palace ready. We want a healer in Lord Gavril’s room and in Lady Gwen’s room when we arrive back. We also need Prince Daric alerted to the situation. How is the cyclone doing? Is it shrinking at all?”

“It is going down but not as fast as the Godsfyre rain,” one of Damon’s men called back.

“Probably because there’s more than fire and magic in it. It can sustain longer off the wind feeding into it,” Damon sighed. “How are Lord Gavril and Lady Gwen?”

“No change,” came the call back.

“That’s not bad. Not good, but not bad,” Nic sighed. They watched as three men mounted up and headed back for the road that went back to Oleryn and up to the palace. Only one of the men would return. The others would stay after they had relayed their messages to healers and to Prince Daric.

Damon bit back another sigh. He would have to explain himself to Daric. For some damned reason Daric wanted this young woman protected at all costs. There were other great squads of the Royal Guard that could have been pulled for her protection that hadn’t been tapped. More than that, he had reassigned his best friend away from him though they hadn’t even had a slight argument to indicate there was any need for a break. Daric hadn’t given a reason, perhaps if he had, Damon would have accepted the post easier. The fact Daric denied him any sort of reason was the most frustrating of all. What was so damned special about this Blessed? Why wasn’t he allowed to know anything about her? Daric brushed off all questions about her. Even Gavril and Keiran brushed off all inquiries into her past.

What irked him even more was that Daric had not included him on any of Lady Gwen’s fears for her safety in Port Tythrenn. It was a meeting he should have been involved in as the Sergeant of her Guard. He should have been right there with them listening to her concerns so he could find ways to protect her. Instead, Lady Gwen had been gracious enough to speak with him after. Daric hadn’t even glanced in his direction on the way out and had brushed off any inquiries Damon had made about it. Damon got the feeling more had been said in that meeting than Lady Gwen had mentioned, perhaps it had been new information as Keiran seemed to respond like some of it was news to him. What was Lady Gwen hiding from her Sergeant?

She was always hiding things from him. Damon had had reports from his men that Lady Gwen was pleasant and nice to talk to. She understood the work they had put in to joining the Royal Guard and often asked about their accomplishments. Whenever he was around she was silent, guarded, and gave off the air of a selfish noble lady. She locked away things in her desk to keep secrets. She avoided his eye contact at any cost. She acted like she was hiding important information. He had caught a small glimpse of the woman his men had reported back to him when she had spoken to him after her meeting with Daric. He wanted her to be honest with him again. But she had clammed up when he had decided to spend the majority of his time in her rooms with his men. She wouldn’t even address his men then.

“The cyclone is down to about three feet high and shrinking faster than before. I think we’ll be clear in about a minute,” one of his men called. Damon turned and followed Nic to the top of the rise. Sure enough the cyclone was shrinking fast.

“When it disappears, we will proceed cautiously. If it looks like it might pick back up, get out,” Damon ordered. “We have blankets, yes?” He turned to look to their meager supplies.

“We do, Sergeant,” one man confirmed.

“Let’s use them as stretchers. We don’t want to incur any wrath of healers by injuring them further,” Damon turned back to the hilltop. In the valley below the cyclone was down to a foot tall. In a moment it would be gone altogether. “I need three men with me. The rest of my men stay and guard the horses unless Nic needs extra hands.” He waited a moment for the men to decide amongst themselves who was going. They usually did very well with making those decisions without roles being completely dictated to them. “Alright let’s go.”

The valley that had been a lush green field of grass only that morning was a wasteland. Twenty feet from the center on every side the grass had been burned or ripped away to reveal craters where the Godsfyre rain had touched. Rocks and clumps of dirt that had been torn up by the cyclone were scattered across the valley floor.

Gavril had been thrown to their side of the valley and was laying on his stomach half in the circle of destruction and half out onto the still green grass. Damon watched Nic stop at Gavril’s side and kneel down next to him to check for the pulse under the large man’s jawline. A knot of tension released inside of Damon as he saw Nic nod to confirm that the Sun Blessed was alive. He turned away to lead his men across the valley floor while Nic’s men were tasked with loading the heavy Gavril onto a blanket to carry up the hill.

The dirt that had been exposed by the Godsfyre rain and the cyclone was hot enough to feel through the hard leather of their uniformed boots but not hot enough to make them want to skirt around the edge of the valley. Lady Gwen was the crumpled figure on the far side of the valley partway up a hill on the opposite side. As they hit the grass on the other side of the devastation, one of the men pointed out a shock of red on the grass. It was blood.

Damon felt his heart quicken. He had known before he had even entered the valley that Lady Gwen was injured. He had seen at least one bigger cut take place from above. But now he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was bleeding and they were without proper supplies. The blood wasn’t just one patch. It led a small trail right up to where Lady Gwen had stopped rolling. There was enough on the ground to be a cause for concern on its own. Where they equipped to deal with so much blood loss? No. Damon would have to forgo all plans of traveling discreetly and rush her back to the palace if she showed any sign of being too close to death.

At her side, Damon realized how tiny she truly was. She was still painfully thin though she had indeed filled out. Perhaps she would have had more fat on her bones to protect her if he hadn’t forbid her from having extra food brought to the rooms. He would have to strike that rule. She needed to be fed up a little more.

He knelt down next to her and brushed her dark hair off of her neck so he could find her pulse. His fingers traced her jawline back to its edge and moved to press under. For a moment there was nothing. He shifted his fingers slightly trying to see if he was just off by a small amount. A low moan came from the throat under his hand making him nearly jump. He removed his hand from her neck to move the hair out of her face. Her eyelids flickered for a couple of seconds before they opened to reveal the most intense silver eyes looking out at him. After a moment the color faded to a dull gray and her eyes stayed open and trained on him. Damon turned to give his men the nod telling them their charge was still alive and to proceed to get ready to carry her.

“You took quite a flight,” Damon informed the woman looking up at him. He knew she had to be in pain and was likely scared. It was a foolish person that wasn’t scared after that sort of experience. “I think you made some birds quite envious, but we will need to work on your landing if you choose to do this again,” he teased. For a second he saw a hint of blue spark in the depths of her eyes as a small smile tugged at her lips before it turned to a grimace and her eyes turned dull again. “I’m going to pick you up so we can move the blanket under you.” He told her when he saw his men were ready to slide it under her.

Lady Gwen wasn’t just painfully thin, she was also painfully light. Damon was certain he had carried children that had weighed more than this woman. He definitely needed to strike that rule. Perhaps he needed to make a rule that she needed to eat every few hours instead. It certainly wasn’t good for her health to be so scrawny.

Once she was on her back in the center of the blanket Damon looked her over. Lady Gwen’s left thigh was ripped open where he had seen the rock hit her earlier. It would need to be bound before they did anything else. Luckily it seemed to be where most of the blood had come from. There was another cut on her right bicep and a gash across her forehead above her left eye that also needed to be bound.

Damon sat back on his heels and thought. They needed spare cloth to make bandages from but the only cloth they had was the blanket on which Lady Gwen had to be carried and the clothes on their backs. For a moment he considered using the parts of Lady Gwen’s clothes that he could cut away to deal with the damage but he discarded that idea fast. Her clothes were coated in dirt and with blood already. They would only get him in trouble with a healer. With an internal sigh he reached down to grab the edge of his own tunic to draw it off over his head. 

For a moment he stared down at the purple material in his hands. A Royal Guard honored his uniform always. It was the mark of the great things they had already achieved and the prestigious place they all held. It was a trophy as much as it was clothing. He had been humbled the day he had been asked to join and had worn his royal insignia emblazoned tunic with pride every day for the past eight years. A flash of blue drew his eye away from the purple cotton in his hands. Lady Gwen was watching him and for a moment there was a bright startling blue playing in her eyes as she glanced between him and the tunic. He looked to his own men beyond her and saw they had turned away knowing exactly what he did, the tunic was the only nonessential piece of clothing any of them had on. It was the most logical thing to sacrifice, but it was still hard.

With a sigh, Damon withdrew his own belt knife and moved to make the first cut. A small hand with a wide leather bracelet found the wrist holding the tunic and held it still. Damon looked up to see Lady Gwen give the slightest shake of her head. It had to be clear how hard it was if she, in her current state, had made the effort to stop him. Damon felt something rise up inside of him then, a gratitude for her understanding and a protectiveness that he had hadn’t been aware of before. A protectiveness for Lady Gwen.

“I need to bandage your wounds so you don’t bleed out before we can get you to healers,” he explained and gently removed her hand from his wrist. “It’s just a tunic,” he told her calmly and began to cut. He made squares first that he would use as pads to cover the wounds and then strips he would use as bindings. When his tunic was only a pile of purple cloth, he took out his water skin and popped the cork off.

Damon knew he was adding to Lady Gwen's pain as he poured the water over the wounds to wash dirt out but she only closed her eyes. When he judged the wounds to be clean enough under the circumstances, he turned to his men and asked them to turn their backs before he reached for the waistband of her breeches.

“Lady Gwen, I need to get at the wound better to bandage it. I promise I will only bandage your wound.” He spoke in soft voice hoping it was somewhat soothing as he edged her breeches down. She turned her head away from him. Damon tried to be quick but also made sure his makeshift bandage would hold until they made it back. He pulled her breeches back up and rolled the sleeve of her right arm up to bind up the cut there and then he moved to her head. He made sure to tell her what he was doing. She stayed silent with her head turned away from him. When he was done he stepped back and went to his corner of the blanket. His men took their places and they lifted together to keep her level. Lady Gwen's eyes closed and didn't open again.

“How is she?” Nic asked when they crested the hilltop.

“I'll be happier when a healer looks her over. I'm concerned about the blood she's lost already,” Damon admitted. “And Gavril?”

“A good knot on his head and bruises all over but he's strong.” Nic gave a weary smile. “I'll be happier when he's awake to confirm that.”

“Lady Gwen was awake. Not anymore,” one of Damon's men relayed. “She didn't even flinch when the Sergeant bound her wounds.” 

Damon frowned. That particular piece of information bothered him. He had known combat veterans that would have flinched at the pressure he had applied to her wounds. But Lady Gwen hadn't even reacted. Perhaps she was more damaged than he thought.

“I should take her back now,” he heard the words leave his mouth.

“What?” Nic demanded.

“She’s lost enough blood that I'm concerned. I want her out of the elements and where a healer can see her. I don't know if these bandages will last the couple of hours we have before transportation even arrives and then the trip to the palace.” Damon started listing off his reasons.

“Careful Damon, people might get the idea you actually care,” Nic's easy smile didn't fade under Damon's glare. “Go. We'll be fine here.”

Damon mounted up and waited for his men to hand up the blanket wrapped Lady Gwen. Half of his men mounted up to go with him. The rest knew they were better placed staying behind. While none of them expected an attack, it was always a possibility. The foothills often were home to highway men and thieves looking for quick money. With Lady Gwen settled in his lap and against his shoulder, Damon led the way out.

They were ten minutes down the road when they spotted riders in the distance kicking up dust with their speed. Damon slowed their pace as he recognized the purple tunics and took a guess at who they surrounded. They slowed too and Damon recognized one of the men Nic had sent running to the palace to deliver messages riding alongside the Sergeant. They stopped completely in front of Damon and his men and the front riders moved aside to allow a silk clad Prince Daric, Keiran, and the very beautiful golden haired Ameia to come into view.

“What’s this?” Damon demanded looking directly at Daric. He very much expected Daric to side step the question as he had been doing for the past month.

“I felt something wrong. Is that Gwen? Where is Gavril?” Keiran answered for Daric and moved his mount up closer. He shifted alongside of Damon to tug at the corners of the blanket to uncover enough of Lady Gwen’s face to see the bandaged forehead.

“Gavril is unconscious and awaiting proper transportation with his guard and half of my men,” Damon informed him. “He took quiet a hit to the head.”

“And Gwen?” Keiran pressed.

“Bleeding somewhat heavily. I need to get her back before she loses too much more.” Damon felt his mount shift beneath him echoing his impatience to go.

“Ameia,” Keiran turned to look at the golden-haired beauty. For a moment Damon questioned why he was turning to the beautiful Moon Blessed and then it struck him. Ameia could heal as part of her power granted from Eiannae.

“Why is Daric here?” Damon murmured only loud enough for Keiran to hear him.

“He insisted. I think he was worried that if something had happened to Lady Gwen, something had happened to you. Believe it or not, he still cares about what happens to you.” Keiran mumbled back before he turned to Ameia again.

“You can stay mounted, Sergeant. This should only take a minute.” Ameia’s pure white mare stood calm next to his mount without any shifting. Ameia’s soft hands dug at the blankets until one of Lady Gwen’s hands could be grasped.

Damon and the others could only stare as a pale shimmering light formed between Lady Gwen’s palm and Ameia’s. For a long several minutes there was nothing but the light and then Ameia drew back slowly and wiped away tears that were forming at the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, you poor poor creature, where did they find you?” she wept to Lady Gwen’s still unconscious form. “Take her back to the palace and put her to bed. I have stopped her bleeding but she’ll need time to recover from the blood loss.”

“Of course,” Damon managed to pull away from the place between Keiran and Ameia. He saluted the other men of the Royal Guard riding with them and nodded to his men as they maneuvered back onto the road to head towards the palace. They rode in silence for several minutes before someone decided to speak.

“Sergeant?” Damon turned his ear towards the man in question as an indication he was listening. “What do you think Lady Ameia meant about where Lady Gwen was found?”

Damon glanced down at the young woman in his arms. He had been wondering the same thing. There had been something about her healing of Lady Gwen had made Ameia tear up in true sorrow. Whatever it was it had something to do with Lady Gwen’s past.

What did he know about her past? He knew she had been a ward of the Temple of Solreth in Port Tythrenn until it burned down, but that had been four years before. Where had she gone for four years? Where had King Alaric found this last Blessed? Wherever it was, it seemed as if they hadn’t fed her enough to do more than keep her alive. Beyond that he couldn’t guess.

Daric likely knew the answer to that question. He was rarely kept in the dark about anything his father knew or planned. If Daric had answers, Damon needed them. They couldn’t protect Lady Gwen properly unless they had the whole story.

“I don’t know,” Damon admitted to his men. “But I intend to get those answers tonight.”


	11. Chapter 10

Gwen stood before the cyclone as it swirled in her dreams. Time seemed to slow down so she really had time to look at it. Her power was the rainbow threads of Godsfyre whipping around the inside. As the winds pulled into the magic cyclone it grew from ten feet tall to twenty before he eyes and then it began its slow path of destruction towards her. 

The grass under the cyclone burned away as the whipping Godsfyre touched the delicate green blades. The winds ripped up the dirt and rocks buried beneath the surface. The debris was sucked up into the cyclone and projected out like a bolt from a crossbow. Now Gwen could feel the small cuts being made on her skin as little rocks found their way in her direction. A larger rock ripped up her leg and she looked down to see a royal purple strip of cloth dangling from her leg rather than torn flesh and blood. When she managed to look up again, the cyclone was on her. Now she felt herself being lifted up inside the fiery cyclone as it twisted her around its exterior four times before releasing her into the air. Grass passed under her body and she crashed into it feeling something jagged catch her head and arm as the momentum rolled her over her own body uphill.

Gwen woke in a strange place. The mattress under her was too soft. The piles of pillows and comforters tucked around her were constricting. And the walls, the walls were made of a heavy brocade cloth. This wasn’t her bed and she was fairly certain it wasn’t an infirmary bed either.

A new memory struck her from her first night at the palace. The too soft mattress, the brocade walls, and the mountains of soft blankets and pillows all belonged to the too large bed in the main bedroom of her suite. So, it was, in fact, her bed though it wasn’t the bed she slept in.

She remembered Sergeant Damon kneeling over her and him talking to her while he bandaged her up. Perhaps he had taken her home and had decided she needed to sleep in the big bed. Perhaps it was a new rule. This would be one they would have to fight on if it was. She could not sleep in this bed as it was. She needed the security she felt in the servant quarters and she wanted the bed she was accustomed to.

Gwen moved to sit up and immediately realized conversation outside of the brocade walls stopped though she hadn’t been consciously aware of any talking before. The curtains shifted as she managed to sit and she glanced up into Sergeant Damon’s silvery green eyes and tight jaw.

“Good morning, Lady Gwen. I see you decided to wake up.” She heard a hint of teasing in his voice that left her feeling a bit shocked. He glanced back outside of the curtain and she saw him straighten. “Leave us.” 

“This isn’t my bed,” Gwen informed Sergeant Damon after she heard the door close in the sitting room. The man only rolled his eyes at her and pushed the curtains open to reveal multiple chairs had been pulled into the bedroom area though all of them had been vacated.

“The healer didn’t want me to put you in the servant quarters. She said you needed to be where you could be watched, so I did the best I could in closing you in with your curtains. I hope you didn’t feel too watched.” Sergeant Damon took up a chair closest to the bed while nodding at the bed curtains. His jaw loosened then and Gwen stared at him. Was he relaxing?

“It’s not,” Gwen felt her voice dry up and tried to will some moisture into her throat.

“Wait,” Sergeant Damon stood and went into the sitting room. He returned with a mug of warm tea and placed it in her hands. “It’s not what?” He asked after she had managed a sip or two.

“It’s not completely about being watched,” she admitted. “The mattress is too soft. I feel like its swallowing me whole.” She patted the soft down mattress under her.

“The mattress is too soft,” Sergeant Damon repeated. “It’s no softer than any other mattress given to nobility in this palace.”

“Well, I’m not a noble,” Gwen pointed out. “In fact, I’m fairly certain you knew that as you told Daric you wouldn’t guard a peasant. You’ve said peasant several more times in describing me as well.”

“So tell me about being a peasant. Tell me about your life before King Alaric summoned you here with promises of soft luxurious beds you don’t want, a vast allowance you don’t spend, and rich clothes and jewels you don’t wear.” Once again she sensed the slight tease in his tone and she swore his eyes had lit up a little.

“You seem to be an expert on the common classes. How about you tell me?” Gwen replied.

“What do you mean?” He asked, his brow puckering in confusion.

“Well, from what I gather from you and your observations, peasants are lacking in knowledge, willing to milk the Prince for all he's worth, unable to understand subtly, and I personally cannot follow the simplest instructions, though perhaps you believe that of all peasants.” She shrugged and sipped at her tea. “So there's you picture of my being a peasant. Though, now that I think about it, maybe that's just a female peasant as you don't seem to believe any of that of Gavril.” 

“You hear more than you let on,” Sergeant Damon exhaled. Gwen swore she saw a look of regret on his face. She wondered if he regretted his words or just that she had heard them.

“When the people that control you talk, it's best to listen,” she sighed and looked him over, noting his purple tunic. The dream had shown her purple cloth over her leg wound. A new memory hit her. “You cut up your uniform for me. I'm sorry you had to sacrifice it for the likes of me.”

“Well, if you would have bled to death it would have looked worse for me,” he teased openly and gave her a quirk of the lips that seemed to be a smile. “In all honesty though, it's a piece of cloth compared to your well-being.”

Gwen stared at him. She remembered the look on his face after he had taken his tunic off, the agony he had shown that had made her try and stop him. Her wounds weren't worth him having more reasons to hate her.

“So you don't like comfortable beds,” he pressed.

“I've never had a bed before now,” she admitted.

“Never? Not even at the Temple of Solreth?” Sergeant Damon demanded.

“I slept in a closet on the floor.” Gwen watched his face as she spoke. Sergeant Damon seemed to be in shock for a moment before he frowned. “I told you the Priests of Solreth didn’t like me.”

“Like you or not, wards of the Temple of Solreth are supposed to be given at least a pallet,” he informed her. “It’s one of a ward’s basic rights along with food, clothing, and an education.”

“I wasn't in a position to demand my rights.” She sat back against the pillows as she saw his frown deepen.

“Where did you go after the Temple burned down?” Sergeant Damon asked after a long minute. “Did you go back to your family? Did they send you to another temple? Perhaps you ran away?”

By now, Gwen was aware that Sergeant Damon was fishing for more information about her. Perhaps he had seen the scars or the healers had said something. Why hadn't he just gone to Daric about it? She certainly wasn't going to tell him that she was a criminal. He'd likely put her more on lock down.

“What do you think happened?” She asked. He seemed to be the type of man to have his own theories.

“Well, off of the evidence I have, perhaps they sent you to another temple that treated you just as harshly or worse.”

“What evidence do you have?” Gwen demanded. She questioned how much he really had on her already. Sergeant Damon leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs in front of him as if thought this would be a long enough conversation that he needed to get comfortable.

“You don't sleep long or at all if you feel watched. You keep your secrets close which means you don't trust easily or, more likely, you don’t trust at all. You came here severely malnourished and you still could stand to be fed up more,” he offered. “Beyond that I know you like plants and you are pursuing your studies in alchemy. And you don't care for me being in your rooms at all though you are fine with my men.” He paused for a long moment. “What about me makes you so uncomfortable that you don’t want me in your rooms?”

Rather than answer Gwen pushed the thick comforters off her legs and moved to get up. Sergeant Damon jumped up from his chair to stop her.

“Where are you going? You're not in any shape to get up. The healer said it would be at least two days if not three before you’d have the strength to do much,” he informed her, but Gwen batted his hands away and stood. The world spun for a second and then settled. Her whole body ached but not as much as her leg and her head. Sergeant Damon moved away from her and stared.

“This is nothing,” she waved at her body in its current state. When she was sure he wasn’t about to stop her, she inched over to her desk while reaching around her neck. She had been changed into her normal night clothes of a plain, soft cotton shirt and breeches but her leather bracelets had remained on her wrists so she hoped her key was still around her neck. It was and she saw Sergeant Damon straighten a little as she pulled it out. Gwen was clumsy with the lock in her weakened state but she managed to get it open. She glanced at her herb book, her journals, and her scroll before she extracted a thick stack of papers from her drawer and relocked it. She walked back to the bed and handed him the stack of papers

“What's this?” Sergeant Damon demanded as she sat down on the bed, but then he stopped to read and settled back into his chair. He took several long minutes to flip through the pages before he looked up at her. “Fifty-seven rules?”

“Fifty-sever rules so far,” Gwen amended. “And almost every time you come into these rooms I get at least one new rule.”

“I look like a jailer more than a Sergeant of your guard in charge of your protection,” he sighed. “You have every right to believe I hate you.” He looked at the list again. “Still no pursuing my men. Still no leaving these rooms without an approved escort. That means myself, two of my men, Gavril, or, as much as it pains me to allow him, Keiran.” He flipped through the pages. “I'd prefer you sleep with your door open. Perhaps you can leave it cracked so we can hear better and don't disturb your rest when you do sleep. Or does that not work?” He glanced up at her. “What?” 

Gwen realized she had been staring at him. It sounded like he was possibly trying to be nice to her. What had changed? When had it changed? Why had it changed? Men like Sergeant Damon didn’t just change their minds about someone. But then this whole conversation had been a change. 

“What?” Sergeant Damon demanded again.

“Why are you doing this?” Gwen asked. She watched as his jaw set back into a tight line and silently cursed herself. Her questioning of his motives had him frustrated with her again and she would be stuck with the original rules and likely more rules.

“Because I’ve been an ass. You pointed that out several days ago when you as well as told me that you were convinced I hated you. Nic, you know Sergeant Nicolas, Gavril’s sergeant, pointed that out to me as well yesterday afternoon. And now you’ve pointed it out again.” Sergeant Damon patted the rules. “Gavril’s been saying it from the beginning, but I thought he was just being soft with you because you were a peasant before you were Blessed. And Keiran’s made a few comments, but Keiran always makes comments whether he’s right or not. So you’re right, I’ve been an ass, and I need to revise these rules to be less like you’re in prison and more like you are an honored guest of the King.” He held up the sheaf of papers.

“So again, no pursuing my men. No leaving without a proper escort. Can you sleep with the door open just a crack? It would make me less nervous if I could at least hear nothing threatening is happening and if I need to push the door open further to check in on you, I won’t wake you up if you are actually sleeping.” He glanced up at her.

“I think I can manage that,” Gwen couldn’t help but smile. It was the same solution Julian and Aiden had come up with for her. She glanced up to see Sergeant Damon raise an eyebrow at her smile but then he sighed and threw himself against the back of his chair.

“It’s still not dawn yet and I think Ameia would have my head if she knew I was keeping you up to discuss your rules, miraculous walk across the room or no.” He stood. “Do you mind if I keep this list?” He held up the papers.

“As a trophy of your ability to create rules?” She teased.

“So I can fix them without keeping you from your rest.” He threw the papers down on his chair. “Might I also borrow your desk and writing kit? I promise I’ll clean up properly when I’m done.”

“I’m not sure I could stop you,” Gwen laid back against the pillows but Sergeant Damon shook his head at her. “What?”

“Are you really going to fall back asleep out here on this too soft mattress while being watched?” He asked. She bit her lip and really thought. It was bad form not to take a healer’s advice but at the same time she knew she wouldn’t rest easily out in the main room, tired or no. “I didn’t think so,” Sergeant Damon interrupted her thoughts. “I think I’ll risk Ameia’s wrath to make sure you rest.”

“Ameia?” Gwen realized he had mentioned her several times.

“Ameia healed you. She also came and changed you out of the clothes you were in after she came back from seeing to Gavril. She fussed over you for quite some time before she allowed your guards to do more than stand outside of the door.”

If Ameia had been her healer and had changed her clothes then the eternally happy Moon Blessed had seen the marks on her body. There would be explanations in the future but she guessed Ameia would understand her need to be in the servant quarters if she explained herself well enough. She moved towards the edge of the bed and made to stand but Sergeant Damon stopped her.

“I’m not letting you take a chance at reinjuring your leg,” he informed her.

“What is it that you want, Sergeant? Do you want me to sleep in the servant quarters or do you want me to stay put? I can’t do both! And didn’t I just prove I can walk just fine a few minutes ago?” Gwen snapped.

“I’m not letting you walk again. I’m going to carry you,” he reached down to scoop her up and then walked towards the servant quarters. “If you need anything, I’ll be within talking distance. I’ll have my men out here too,” he set her down on her bed and left for a moment only to return with one of the softer comforters in a shade of dark green that she loved. “You need something comfortable,” he informed her. “I’m going to close this door to keep out unnecessary noise so you can try and sleep. Don’t let it go to your head.” She settled in against the pillow and the much firmer mattress while he tucked the comforter around her.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Gwen yawned as he started to walk away.

“I think you and I can learn to understand each other just fine,” Sergeant Damon teased and then the door closed with a soft click and his footsteps died away.

Gwen woke in the dark servant quarters what felt like a few minutes later as the door opened. She turned to look up at Sergeant Damon as he shifted on his feet next to the bed.

“Breakfast is here along with the usual visitors and some extra,” he sighed. “If you are hungry, you should eat. You really can’t afford to miss meals.”

She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. When she moved to stand, Sergeant Damon was there to help her up and to support her.

“I’m fine, really,” she informed the Sergeant. “I don’t need you to fuss over me.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” a light feminine voice came from the doorway. “Sergeant, I believe I need a moment alone with my patient.” Gwen sat back down on the bed as Sergeant Damon turned to bow to Ameia and then made his escape out of the door. The beautiful young lady closed the door and sat on the second bed in the room across from Gwen.

“I hear I have you to thank for healing my wounds,” Gwen started when Ameia seemed reluctant to speak. In response Ameia looked up at her and reached across the short distance between them to grab Gwen’s hand. For half a second Gwen thought it was some sort of way the young woman was looking to try and be nice but then she felt the tug on the bracelet on her wrist.

“I talked to Keiran a lot last night after I left here. After a lot of threatening, he finally gave in and told me where you came from.” She said finally. “I didn’t realize that I was helping you cover these up when Keiran asked me to help you find bracelets.”

“King Alaric would prefer I keep that sort of information to myself,” Gwen tried.

“If it got out that a Blessed had been tortured so, it wouldn’t look good for him,” Ameia examined her wrists. “Who else knows?”

“Gavril knows I was imprisoned but I haven’t confirmed where. And Edith knows.”

“Edith?” Ameia’s hazel eyes snapped up to hers.

“She may have recovered my prison records from one of the men that failed to destroy them as ordered by the King. She returned them to me.” Gwen shrugged.

“Edith is an interesting young woman. Not my kind of interesting but she and Paxton get along alright. I’m sure Paxton knows,” she grabbed the other wrist and removed the bracelet to look that one over.

“I haven’t met Paxton yet. I sent him a note a while ago but we haven’t crossed paths.”

“It’s nothing against you, I’m sure. He doesn’t like to come out of his rooms much. People tend to shy away from him because they don’t like that he can see their secrets. Edith enjoys it, I think. She takes pleasure in hiding things for him.” Ameia gave a soft smile. “I think they make an adorable couple. I can’t do anything to heal these,” she indicated the scars on Gwen’s wrists. It took Gwen a moment to register the change of conversation. “I don’t think there is anything that will help them fade. Perhaps the ones on your back and chest can be faded a bit with a balm or cream.” She let the hand go. “Now, let’s take a look at your leg.”

“I really am fine. Sergeant Damon is fussing for nothing,” Gwen complained but stood to ease her breeches down any way to reveal a bandage around her thigh.

“He’s not fussing for nothing. You, his charge, were wounded and you had lost enough blood for concern. You also hit your head. You passed out. These are all things that mean he is fussing for good reason.” Ameia’s hands wrapped around the bandage on her thigh and a sparkling pale light glowed from her fingers. “You’re strong though, I’ll give you that.”

“I’ve had worse wounds and still had to get up and keep working,” Gwen informed her. 

“Well, not anymore,” Ameia gave her a bright smile. “You won’t go to any other healers. You come straight to me with any concerns from here on out. If I find out you went to anyone else, I will force you to listen to all of the court gossip I know.” 

Gwen gave a fake shudder of terror before her lips spread into a wide smile. Perhaps she had misjudged Ameia. There certainly was more to the Moon Blessed than pretty things, the ability to flirt, and gossip. She seemed to be a bit mischievous as well and very calm in the face of gruesome reality.

“Well, I think you’ll be able to hobble around this suite just fine for a few days, but I wouldn’t suggest going much farther,” Ameia stood and helped Gwen to her feet to pull her breeches back up. “Now, breakfast,” she pulled Gwen’s arm through hers and opened the door. “I think you’ll need a bigger dining table should you continue to gather so many people for breakfast,” Ameia explained as they stepped out into the bedroom. 

Gwen looked up to see Sergeant Damon watching from the doorframe between the sitting room and bedroom. He straightened as she got closer and his silvery green eyes flicked to Ameia.

“I recommend she not leave these rooms for a few days, but she can walk around here,” Ameia informed him and he nodded his acknowledgement. 

Ameia kept her pace snail slow as they walked towards the sitting room forcing Gwen to stay moving slow as well. It gave Gwen time to wonder what large group she had gathered that Ameia had indicated she had needed a bigger table. Keiran, Gavril, and sometimes Nic were her normal guests though she wondered if Gavril would be there.

“How is Gavril?” Gwen managed to ask.

“Gavril is fine and worried about his Chaos Blessed sister,” came the sunny voice from the other room.

“Gavril knocked his head pretty good and isn’t allowed out of sight of his escort or to do any weapons practice until it heals fully,” came Nic’s stern voice after that.

“He’ll be just fine. He has his own Sergeant to do all of the unnecessary fussing,” Ameia teased as they passed Sergeant Damon into the sitting room. The dining table was nearly full with Ameia’s two escorts, Gavril, Nic, Keiran, Gwen’s two door guards, and for some reason Daric. She must have stared a moment too long at the Crowned Prince because he smiled at her.

“I thought I’d join you for breakfast. I used to join Gavril and Keiran for breakfast before you spirited them away from me,” Daric explained.

“She didn’t spirit us away,” Keiran snorted. “And I believe we told you to join us down here.”

“I was allowing her to settle without me imposing on her constantly,” Daric retorted.

“You were just avoiding facing Damon,” Keiran informed his brother. Daric’s response was to make a rude gesture at Keiran as Gwen found her seat across from Gavril.

The Sun Blessed had certainly seen better days. A large purple bruise covered one side of his face. His arms were covered in tiny bruises and scabbed over cuts. When he saw her looking at his wounds, he smiled at her.

“Do you want to tell me what happened when you decided to stand up and face that monster you created?” Gavril asked her. “I know you could hear me telling you to stay down.”

Gwen stared at him for a long moment. Did he not realize it had been heading for him when she had called it back? “I was,” she glanced around to see the others had settled into their own conversations. Only Nic was listening to them. “I was trying to protect you.”

“Funny, I was fairly certain I was trying to protect you,” Gavril frowned at her. “You called it back after I pulled it off of you, didn’t you?”

“I saw it heading for you. I couldn’t be responsible for that,” she stopped herself before she added the word ‘again’. Only Daric and Keiran knew of the deaths she had caused. Even if she hadn’t said it, Gavril was staring at her looking surprised. 

“You’re stronger than me. I thought the thing was fighting me, but it was you,” Gavril stared at her awed. The conversation around the table stopped and Gwen felt all eyes turn towards her.

“Is that even possible? We know Solreth is the greatest of the Gods so his Blessing is the strongest. Only Eiannae is considered close to his strength in power,” one of Ameia’s guards whispered but his voice was easily heard in the quiet room.

“Well, there was more of my power in the cyclone so perhaps I had a slight bit more control over it?” Gwen kept her eyes on Gavril. There were implications of her being stronger than Gavril. It could change the way the world thought of their hierarchy of gods if one of the lesser goddesses could bestow a far more powerful Blessing than who was considered the greatest of the gods. But Gwen had her own memory spark. Variel had told her ten-year-old self that she was receiving the most powerful Blessing she could offer. Gavril had said no one else had seen their patron. No one else had been touched directly by a god. No one else had felt the unbearable pain. Perhaps she was stronger in power, but she didn’t want that set of implications.

“Perhaps,” Gavril admitted but she could see he didn’t believe it. Would he hate her for it? For taking his status as the most powerful? He didn’t seem the type to care but how well did she really know him. “Perhaps we can test that when we go to practice again.”

“Are you insane?” Gwen heard her voice echoed by Nic and by Sergeant Damon’s at his seat next to her, but she was the only one that continued on. “You saw for yourself. We as a combined team couldn’t do more than slow it for a second. I can’t control my power. I don’t even have control over what form it takes when it comes out and I can’t stop whatever does come out.”

“Your power can’t be controlled the same way mine is, or any other Blessed’s is. But I think you can control it somehow. We just need to find how you can do it,” Gavril informed her. “And since I am immune to your Godsfyre, I’m still the best person to try and help you.”

“The answer is no,” Gwen snapped. All she could see in her mind was the Godsfyre as it consumed the Temple of Solreth and the men screaming inside as well as that painful moment when she had seen the cyclone heading for Gavril. “There are consequences to playing with chaos and I’m not willing to pay them anymore.” She shoved her chair back from the table and walked back towards the bedroom.

“Is this about your family? The people you don’t talk about?” Gavril’s voice carried to her and she stopped against the doorframe and glanced back at him and all of the people around the table.

“I don’t have a--” she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Keiran.

“She has her reasons. Reasons the gods wouldn’t even contest,” Keiran explained. “And you do have a family,” he informed Gwen. “You have me, and I’m the most annoying brother you never wanted. Just ask Damon. He can tell you first-hand how that goes.” She couldn’t help but smile at that.

“It’s true. I didn’t even try and adopt him but he’s part of the package deal with Daric,” Sergeant Damon stood and came to join her. “Well, if you aren’t going to eat we should continue our predawn conversation.”

“But,” she heard Ameia protest and saw Damon give a vague hand gesture back out at the table where Ameia and everyone else was still sitting waiting for their plates to be passed around. No other protests followed, and Gwen guessed she wasn’t completely off the hook for eating but it wasn’t an issue her Sergeant would push at that exact moment. It would likely come later when there would be no witnesses to his concerns.

Sergeant Damon led her to her desk and sat her down in front of a neatly written piece of paper with four rules. The first two rules were as they had discussed. Gwen was not allowed to pursue or maintain a romantic relationship with any of her guards. She was to have a dependable escort when leaving her rooms. It went on from there to add that she was to report any perceived threats of her safety, real or imaginary, to the Sergeant of her Guard. The final rule was that she was to never scare her guards by possibly being dead again.

“Do you think those are manageable?” Sergeant Damon asked from her side.

“I think I can maybe make these work,” she turned to look at him and saw him truly smile for the first time.


	12. Chapter 11

“Are you ever going to actually ask Daric about that workshop you want or are you just going to sit here and draw up plans for a place you won’t ask for to create recipes you won’t actually make?” Sergeant Damon’s voice made her look up from the sketch she had been working on into his silvery green eyes as he smiled at her from around the doorframe.

“I doubt this is what King Alaric meant when he told me to pursue my own interests,” Gwen smiled back.

“His Majesty doesn’t get to pick what the Blessed are drawn to do,” Sergeant Damon pulled one of the dining chairs up next to her desk and started to pull her papers towards him. “Tinctures to reduce fever, tinctures to help with infection, tinctures to help someone sleep, balms for healing wounds, balms for healing bruises, balms for reducing scars…” he flipped through the papers. “I’d say this is what you were drawn to.”

“It doesn’t seem very chaos-like,” Gwen sighed and stoppered her ink. While she and Sergeant Damon had a much easier relationship than how they had started in the month since the cyclone incident, the Sergeant didn’t ever come to just sit and chat.

“Well, you could see it as chaos for the plants to be dried, smashed, turned to liquid, boiled, and generally lose their own identities to become part of something new. But that sort of chaos is necessary to unlock their stronger properties.” Sergeant Damon set the papers down. “Talk to Daric, or I can talk to Daric. But we’ll need to do it within the next day or two.”

“Why the time constraint?” Gwen asked.

“Because in three days he goes to board a ship to Port Tythrenn. Two weeks after that, you’ll follow with all of the other Blessed.” Sergeant Damon reached up to pick up her quill to toy with it. 

It didn’t escape her that he had said she’d be going with the other Blessed, not that they would be going with the other Blessed. Daric had mentioned in their meeting over a month before that Sergeant Damon and his men would be tapped whenever he had to travel, and she guessed this was no exception.

“Lady Gwen,” he sighed. “Daric just told me that my men and I are to accompany him as his guards for this little voyage. I tried to talk him into using the other squad he’s been working with, but he won’t budge on this. He’s being as stubborn as when he put us on to you.”

“Whoever would have thought you’d argue to stay with me,” she teased.

“I don’t like being bounced from charge to charge,” Sergeant Damon frowned. “Are you still concerned about Port Tythrenn?”

“Always,” Gwen smiled. Sergeant Damon had been asking questions about her past over the past month, but she hadn’t let him get anywhere. “But Daric said if it seems like I won’t be safe, he’ll have me redirected somewhere else for the time being so I have to believe he wouldn’t keep me where I’d be in danger.”

“I’ll make sure you aren’t brought in if things seem dangerous for you,” he set her quill down. “I don’t know who will be guarding you when I go. I’m apparently not privy to that information.”

“I think he does this sort of thing to torture you. Perhaps he is retaliating for the rules you gave him?” Sergeant Damon laughed outright at her question. Since his revision of her rules down to the simple four, they had teased each other about rules often as Gwen making rules for Sergeant Damon.

“You’ve seen how Daric responds to anything I tell him. He wouldn’t obey a rule from me unless he saw the immediate danger and need for it,” Sergeant Damon sighed. “I want you to stick close to Gavril and Sergeant Nic. The two of them will take care of you no matter who is assigned as your guard detail. Someone will tell me if you go running wild in the next two weeks and during the weeklong journey to Port Tythrenn.”

“I do just fine when you and your men aren’t around. You’ve left me with Keiran the last four Sundays and nothing has gone terribly wrong,” she reminded him.

“Are you and Gavril planning on working on managing your power any time soon?” He asked.

“You know I won’t agree to that. I won’t be responsible for any more accidents of the sort.” Gavril had been trying to get her to join him for outings outside of the city and she always declined. She knew he was trying to get her to go with him to a safe place to practice controlling her power, but she was certain her power was only meant to destroy uncontrollably. It was only a matter of time before Gavril or one of their escorts were seriously injured or killed if she kept playing with her power.

“Talk to Daric about this workshop, and I’ll know that you will be completely occupied and safe in the time that I am not watching you,” Sergeant Damon shoved his chair back and stood. “Let’s go do that now so I’ll know it’s done and that I won’t have to worry about you.”

“Right now?”

“Well, I’d suggest putting on something pretty and using some of those cosmetic tips Ameia gave you first. Daric always gives in to a pretty girl.” Sergeant Damon teased.

“Fine, go sit out there where you won’t make me nervous,” she pointed out to the sitting room. Sergeant Damon took his chair and went to follow her orders. Gwen went into her dressing room and hunted out one of her silk tunics, leggings, and embroidered long sleeved shirts. She exchanged her plain bracelets for jeweled ones and then went back to the bedroom to find her vanity.

While she had been healing, Ameia had taken the time to walk her through each cosmetic her vanity contained and how it was applied as well as how to apply it tastefully. She applied a small amount to make her eyes look bigger and her lips look fuller before she pinned her hair back into a pretty silk net. Once she was sure no hair was out of place, she went to find Sergeant Damon chatting with his men in the sitting room.

“Well, do I pass?” She demanded when he stared at her.

“Do you not own dresses?” Sergeant Damon demanded.

“I’m sure there are a few dresses in my wardrobe,” she shrugged.

“But you don’t wear them ever. You could make quite an impression in one now that you’ve put some fat on your body.”

“I don’t like dresses,” she smoothed the sage green tunic that covered her gray leggings.

“Afraid you’ll look too attractive?” One of the men at the door laughed.

“It’s far too easy to get up a skirt,” Gwen retorted. The men at the door all stopped smiling immediately.

“Did someone hurt you?” Sergeant Damon asked quietly.

“Not at the palace. Don’t worry; you haven’t failed at your jobs.” She waited a moment but none of the men at the door commented or moved. “Shall we go, or have you changed your mind about forcing me to seek Daric out?”

“Let’s go. I want to make sure you are voluntarily locked away while I am gone,” Sergeant Damon informed her. He offered his arm and gave a meaningful nod towards it. She threaded her arm through his and let him lead her out of the room and down the hall. “You’d tell me if something like that happened here, right?”

“I doubt anything like that could happen here. You have me so well guarded the only time I spend alone is in the dressing room or the privy. And to get in there they’d have to go through the sitting room where the guards always stand.” She grinned at him. The only person that could and did sneak into her privy from time to time without the use of the front door was Edith and Gwen wasn’t about to reveal her visits to Sergeant Damon. “So, do I actually look pretty enough to charm a workroom out of Daric?”

“You are very pretty even without the face paint and silks. Daric stares at you whenever he sees you,” Sergeant Damon said finally.

“Any other advice?” Gwen smoothed her tunic.

“Be confident. You’re a Blessed,” Sergeant Damon reminded her. “And Daric can’t help himself around confident women. If you show up like this and confident about yourself, he’ll be so stunned he’ll deny you nothing.”

“Do you want me to ask him to reveal which men will be left in charge of my protection while you are away while I have him so stunned?” She glanced side long at him and saw him smile. “Or perhaps you’d like me to ask him to not take you and your men from me for three whole weeks.”

“I don’t think even your charm can get him to agree to that. But if you can ask about who will be guarding you, I’ll be eternally grateful.” He heaved a sigh and then glanced back at her. “In the early afternoon like this, Daric is usually out on the practice courts. We’ll try there first.”

He led her outside and across the palace grounds to the fenced in yards that Gavril had taken her to when she had first come to the palace nearly two months before. She had managed to avoid the practice courts since then but now Sergeant Damon had her at the fence where they could clearly see the Crowned Prince sparring with another man far enough away they couldn’t call to him. Sergeant Damon waved to try and get his attention, but Daric wouldn’t turn.

“Come, there’s a gate down this way. You won’t need to jump the fence,” Sergeant Damon pulled her down the fence line towards a small gate. He let go of her arm, opened the gate, and walked through before he turned back to realize she wasn’t following. “It’s alright, you can come in here. It’s not forbidden or anything.”

Gwen stared at the opening into the practice courts and shook her head. There were quite a few men in the yard practicing. Some were wearing army uniforms, others Royal Guard, while others wore nothing to affiliate them. How many of those men were on her list of guards from Faserlaeh? Worse, how many of those men were men on her records that had caused her personal harm? These men were using live weapons and flailing them around. Accidents could happen easily on the practice courts.

“Are you actually scared?” Sergeant Damon sounded surprised. “You faced a cyclone of Godsfyre nearly four times your height, but you won’t go in there?” He moved to stand in front of her blocking her view of the gate and the practice courts beyond. “You know I won’t let anything bad happen to you if I can help it, right?” He asked, using a reasonable tone. She looked up at him. If he could help it. Perhaps he wouldn’t be able to help it. One misstep with a blade she’d be dead, and he wouldn’t be able to help that. Sergeant Damon was one man and there were far too many others on the practice courts for her liking.

Gwen shook her head again. She was not going in the practice courts. She was drawing the line there. A strong grip on both of her hips made her jump and she realized Sergeant Damon had moved closer and had taken a hold of her hips. For half a second she panicked at the touch and the closeness before she realized he wasn’t attacking her, he was moving her backwards away from the gate. Her feet followed when he pushed her backwards as if it were some kind of dance.

“Stay here,” Sergeant Damon ordered when she was far enough away from the fence. Then he let go of her, turned, and went through the gate into the practice courts alone.

Gwen watched as the men inside of the practice courts drew away from Sergeant Damon as he walked through the courts. She envied his confidence that nothing would touch him. She remembered that he was apparently the best swordsman at court and could even best Gavril. Perhaps no one would accidentally strike the man because no one wanted the repercussions.

Then suddenly Sergeant Damon was on his way back with Daric in tow. The golden-red haired prince looked comfortable in a loose canvas shirt and black breeches with his sword at his side. His crystal blue eyes lit up when he saw her waiting and his lips split into a wide grin. He stepped around Sergeant Damon and strode up to her to take her hands in his. He bowed over her hands and kissed her fingers.

“Lady Gwen, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?” He asked as he rose.

“I was hoping to steal just a few moments of your time, Your Highness,” she forced herself to stand straight. Confidence. She needed to show confidence.

“I thought I told you to call me Daric,” he still had a hold of her hands.

“And I thought you were simply calling me by my name, but you decided to use a title. Social protocol means I use yours then,” she raised an eyebrow at him daring him to challenge her.

“What can I do for you, Gwen?” Daric amended.

“Perhaps we can walk?” She asked with a nod away from the practice courts. She needed to not have to look at the Prince while they spoke, or she knew she’d lose what nerve she had to ask. They only way she could socially avoid looking his direction completely while making her request was to be on his arm, walking somewhere. Why hadn’t Sergeant Damon just let her do this in her own time? But she knew the answer to that was he hadn’t forced her really and she would likely never have gotten the courage to ask Prince Daric without the push.

“Of course,” Daric offered his arm with a second bow. She hesitated all of a moment before she took the offered arm and let him lead her away from the practice courts towards the direction of the many gardens of the palace grounds. She knew she had been silent and building her courage for a few moments too long because Daric gave her a flirtatious smile. “Did you want to talk or were you just interested in stealing me from my practice as a handsome man to escort you through the gardens?”

“I’m sure you remember that first meeting I had with your father,” she found her place to start. She certainly didn’t want him thinking she had only interrupted his time to flirt. “As part of the conversation it was indicated that I would be encouraged to pursue my own interests. And as I’m sure your men have reported back to you,” she saw Daric grin out of the corner of her eye. “I have been pursuing my studies in alchemy.”

“You know I didn’t assign my guards to you to have them spy on you for me,” Daric informed her.

“I assumed it was a convenient bonus for you,” she explained.

“You caught me out,” Daric chuckled. “So you’ve been studying alchemy. What does that have to do with your lovely self seeking me out?”

“Well,” she glanced side long at him. “My studies have reached a point where I’ve exhausted the book learning. In order to advance my studies further I’d need access to the proper equipment and workspace.”

“Are you asking for the workspace or for the equipment?” Daric asked.

“Honestly,” Gwen blushed. It sounded like too big of a request when he separated the request out like that. She knew she was asking for too much, but she couldn’t go turn around and pretend she wanted none of it. It was best to inform him exactly what she wanted so he wouldn’t misunderstand her. “I’m asking for both,” she sighed. “My preference would be for a workshop outside of my suite. But if that is far too much to ask, perhaps we can change the bedroom of my suite into my workshop and then I’d just need to exchange the bed for a few more tables and then the equipment.”

“The bedroom? Where would you sleep then?” Daric asked.

“Where I sleep now, the servant quarters,” Gwen grinned. “What?” She demanded when he shook his head.

“I still have hope that you’ll adjust to all the luxuries we’ve gifted to you,” Daric sighed. “I will see if I can locate a space for you this afternoon. What I need you to do is tonight, go and make me a list of all of the things you would like inside of this space. Equipment, supplies, ingredients, furniture. Draw me a floor plan. What? You look like you’re not happy.” He frowned at her.

“Well, I’ve been informed, and I’ve experienced that you aren’t usually the best at remembering things. I feel like if I spend the time making these lists and drawing up floorplans tonight, they will get handed to you and forgotten.” Gwen expressed her concerns. If she wanted this done before Daric left for Port Tythrenn then she would need to press for him to consider it a more urgent matter.

“I promise, dear Gwen, that I will make this my priority. I will find you a space tonight and if you get me what I need tonight by after dinner, I’ll have it ready for you before I leave for Port Tythrenn.”

“Ah, yes, speaking of you leaving,” she stopped walking as they reached the garden closest to the practice courts and turned to glance back at Sergeant Damon following dutifully behind. “I was informed this afternoon that you are taking Sergeant Damon and his men back for the trip as you threatened during our meeting a little over a month ago.”

“I promise, I won’t be leaving you unguarded,” Daric turned to face her completely and captured both of her hands.

“Might I at least know the name of the Sergeant you are leaving in charge of me?” She asked.

“Sergeant Ambrose. He’s fairly new and his squad is newly formed but he’s no less able in protecting you than Damon,” Daric explained. “Now, My Lady, I must go start my search for a suitable workroom for you so that you might believe I truly am making you my priority.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her cheek. “I will come and find you tonight to get your plans.” He turned to flash a grin at Damon and then left.

Gwen stared after him. Daric had said she’d have her workshop, and she’d have it before he left for Port Tythrenn. That gave her two weeks to experiment and enjoy the space before she’d have to leave. She could do a lot in two weeks. Already her mind was filling with everything she wanted to do first. 

“That went well,” Sergeant Damon’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “And you actually look happy for once. Or is that because the handsome Crowned Prince called you his lady and kissed you?” He teased her with a laugh.

“I’m not his lady,” she retorted, “and I wouldn’t call him pressing his lips to my cheek a kiss anything worth thinking twice about. I’m sure he kisses every lady that he flirts with.” But he kept laughing. She rolled her eyes at him and started walking back towards the palace. “So tell me about this Sergeant Ambrose? Do you know him?” 

Sergeant Damon sobered immediately and trotted to catch up. “Like Daric said, he’s new. I haven’t spent much time with him.”

“I’m confused. I thought sergeants were promoted from within.”

“Not always,” she saw Sergeant Damon blush. “If a man’s endorsements and achievements are above the average, a man can be brought in as a higher rank,” he explained. “For example, I was brought in as a sergeant when I joined.”

“Because of your skills as a swordsman?” Gwen asked.

“My family’s standing at court had a bit to do with it too,” he admitted. “So now you’ll need to get that list together. Any idea what equipment true alchemists have in their workrooms?”

“Do you have such little faith in my abilities that you don’t believe I’m a true alchemist?” She accepted the arm he offered and gave him a small shove as a tease.

“So in that four years you were out of the temple and before you arrived here, you were an alchemist?” Sergeant Damon tried. He had been trying for the past month to try and get any information of her past from her. The only thing she had allowed him was that she had been a peasant from the Forest Bryndall before she had been Blessed and about her time at the Temple of Solreth.

Gwen had learned through several comments that Sergeant Damon had more knowledge about the teachings of Solreth than the average man. When she had pressed, after another comment about false scripture, he had revealed that at a young age his parents had thought to have him trained as a priest and had had a tutor come to teach him the beginnings. That had lasted all of three years before he had picked up his first sword and had decided to serve Solreth in a different way though he had kept up his studies of scripture and the laws of Solreth. Gwen personally couldn’t see the man as a priest, and it made her laugh to try. 

“I would have been a poor one to come to the palace looking as I did if that was the case,” Gwen answered his question. She never answered his questions too directly. She didn’t want to give him definite answers for him to be sure he was wrong or right on.

“Perhaps you are a poor alchemist. Good on paper and theories, bad at the actual creating part,” Sergeant Damon offered.

“I guess you will find out when you return from Port Tythrenn,” she shrugged. “Or not. Maybe this Sergeant Ambrose will work out and Daric will keep you as his elite guard again. You can have your prestigious place back and not have to worry about how peasant minding will wound your reputation.”

“Guarding a Blessed is a high honor,” Sergeant Damon stiffened under her arm. “Guarding you is an honor.”

“You can save the speeches. You and I both know you’d prefer Daric and I’m alright with that. I don’t mean to get between friendships and step on people’s toes. I’d just like to have a workshop and hide away for the rest of my life.” Gwen sighed. It sounded like an unachievable dream. Keiran and Gavril would certainly never let her stay locked away and she would have to come out from time to time to restock supplies and to bath.

“Alright, fine,” Sergeant Damon sighed as well. “Don’t go thinking I hate you though.” 

They walked in silence until they were back at the door carved with her eight-pointed symbol. “Go get to work on your lists. I’m going to go hunt down Daric and make sure he actually follows through.” He opened the door and gave her a light shove inside. Before she could retort that she didn’t think Daric would want her to call him out on breaking his word to a pretty lady, Sergeant Damon had closed the door and left her alone in her rooms with her two guards and her thoughts.

“Did it work out, Lady Gwen?” One of them asked.

“It did. I have some work to do first though. Don’t interrupt me unless it’s necessary,” she strode back into the bedroom to her desk to get to work.

“Why do I have a feeling we’ll be hearing that order a lot once she gets her workshop?” She heard one of the guards whisper in the quiet suite.

“You think she’ll actually allow us inside. Chances are we’ll be guarding the outside of the door the moment we get back to the palace from Port Tythrenn,” came the response. 

Her lips twitched into a smile. She didn’t think Sergeant Damon would allow her to keep her guards outside of the door of her workshop, but she probably could convince Sergeant Ambrose of it.

Thinking of Sergeant Ambrose her fingers twitched to the scroll of her records in her drawer. She didn’t think that Daric would assign someone on her list of men that had attacked her but she wanted the assurance of not seeing his name. She glanced around to make sure the guards were still at the door before she unrolled the scroll and searched through the names. She found no guards named Ambrose on either list of guards but she found her eyes drawn to one specific name on the list: Elden Wood. No matter how many times she looked at the list, her brother’s name always drew her eyes and held her thoughts. 

“Lady Gwen?” She heard a guard’s voice. “I know you said not to interrupt but Sergeant Damon sent up a servant with a tray of cakes for you. You know he would prefer we interrupt you and make you eat something.” She turned to see the guard standing in the doorway.

“Just leave it in the sitting room. I’ll come get something when I’m hungry,” she rolled up the scroll slowly, not wanting to look like she was hiding something important. She knew he couldn’t read it from the doorway as it was. 

She tucked the scroll away and pulled out her lists she had already worked on when she had thought she’d need to make a serious proposal to Keiran before she could talk to Daric. Now she set them out and drew up a full floorplan for her ideal workshop and rewrote all of the lists to be cleaner and more precise. She specified amounts of certain pieces of equipment and of ingredients. She worked until she knew that when Daric would come looking for her she’d be completely ready.


	13. Chapter 12

Gwen opened the door of the cabinet next to her new worktable and frowned. Nothing was organized the way she had asked. Then again, she had asked Keiran when he had decided to come and assist in unpacking everything that had been delivered the night before. She had a guess that not one ingredient was in the spot she wanted it to be since Keiran had had his hands in every box of ingredients while she and Gavril had been setting empty bottles and jars in the storage closet she had in her new workshop.

With a sigh she began to unload all the bottles of oils, essences, and extracts onto the worktable. Each bottle was labeled carefully, but it was likely Keiran hadn’t even bothered looking to see what he was putting away. He had been too busy talking about the trip to Port Tythrenn.

The plans had changed the morning before. Rather than send Daric on his own with a guard of ten on a royal charter ship to Port Tythrenn and then send three smaller ships two weeks later, it had been decided two Blessed would accompany Daric to Port Tythrenn and then two ships would follow instead of three. Gavril had been picked as a natural first choice to go early simply because he was the Sun Blessed and they were going to help open the new Temple of Solreth. Keiran had been chosen as the second Blessed to go early simply because he was also a prince, and as royalty, he had a double duty to pull. He would have a better chance to fulfill both duties if he had a longer amount of time.

A knock on the door had Gwen cursing silently. Sergeant Damon had approved for her to be alone in her workshop without a guard so long as she locked the door. She knew it was because his men needed time to prepare for their journey without having to have a second set of guards standing inside of her workshop with her as well as the pair in her rooms. It was both something she loved and hated. She loved that she wasn’t being watched but she hated that she now had to drop everything she was doing to go open the door.

Opening the door, she frowned at Sergeant Damon. He had keys to her workshop so there was no reason he should have been knocking on the door to have her open it. He had let himself in the night before when they had been unpacking and she knew if he had reason, he would let himself in at any time. Then she opened the door a bit further and found a second man dressed in the Royal Guard uniform with a sergeant’s armband around his bicep.

“Lady Gwen, I thought I would introduce you officially to your new sergeant, Sergeant Ambrose,” Sergeant Damon gave a slight nod to the younger man at his side. Gwen turned to look the man over a little more closely. He was only a few inches taller than she was but had a solid, stocky build proving he spent some time on the practice courts. His flame red hair had been cropped short but stuck up in the back. His long face was accented with very round grey eyes slightly too close together, a too large hooked nose, and a thin mouth pulled tight.

“Sergeant Ambrose, it’s a pleasure,” Gwen managed to say.

“Lady Gwen,” he mumbled, his voice low. His head bobbed in some type of bow. It struck her as an odd reaction. He almost appeared bored and not very attentive at all. “Two of my men are replacing Sergeant Damon’s men in your suite as we speak. Anything you need, speak to them. If you have any complaints, send a note.” He mumbled out. “Lady Gwen,” he bobbed his head again turned to leave.

Gwen stared after him as he ambled down the hall at a leisurely pace. When he was far enough away, she looked to Sergeant Damon still standing in her doorway. He was watching her closely.

“What did you think?” Sergeant Damon asked finally.

“I’m not sure he’s too thrilled with this assignment,” Gwen admitted after a long moment. “I can’t tell if he was less thrilled than you were, or not.”

“He works a little differently than most of us,” Sergeant Damon admitted. Gwen sensed that Sergeant Damon would be staying for a few minutes more at least so she turned to go back inside of her workshop to continue reorganizing the ingredients Keiran had not put away correctly. Sergeant Damon followed her inside and leaned against her worktable. “Ambrose prefers to dictate duties rather than perform them himself. I’m sure he would have rather had his men speak to you in his stead, but I forced him to come here.”

“He seems to see some of the practice courts though,” she commented after a moment.

“It’s a requirement of the Royal Guard that all members stay in fighting shape. That means we are all required to spend a certain amount of our time training.” Sergeant Damon grinned at her. “If you don’t feel like he’d be a good fit for you, we can go to Daric right now and take you with us to Port Tythrenn today. Keiran would gladly stay back and go with Ameia. Daric would take you with if you asked.”

“You are leaving within the hour. I don’t have enough time to pack and prepare,” Gwen replied. “And I’m not supposed to be going early because you are supposed to be scouting any possible dangers to the Chaos Blessed in Solreth’s City,” she reminded him.

“Alright fine,” he sighed and then looked to what she was doing. “Wasn’t this all put away last night?” He nodded to the bottles she was putting on the worktable.

“They weren’t alphabetized like I asked Keiran to do. I doubt he organized any of the things he put away like he was asked to do,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. She glanced sideways at Sergeant Damon to see him smiling slightly at her. “What?”

“It’s ironic. The Chaos Blessed wanting things to have an order and be organized,” he teased.

“I don’t like spending forever searching for what I need,” she shot back at him.

“It’s still ironic,” he pressed and then the smile fell from his lips. “Are you sure you are going to be alright with Sergeant Ambrose? If you feel something is off, you can tell me.”

Gwen spared Sergeant Damon a glance. He had spent the last day telling her she’d be fine with Sergeant Ambrose, that he had looked into the man and his credits and endorsements were good. Now she wondered if he was more worried about it than she should have been. Yes, Sergeant Ambrose seemed a little uninterested in doing duties he asked his men to fulfill, but perhaps Sergeant Damon was a little too involved in those duties. With the way he was fussing she wondered if perhaps he knew something about the man that he hadn’t told her. Sergeant Ambrose was certainly not one of the guards from Faserlaeh. He was homely in a way she would have remembered, and he was a little too small of a build to have been one of those monsters.

“Do you think he’ll do a good job or not? You’ve spent the last day telling me I’ll be fine with him and now you are worried?” She turned to face Sergeant Damon completely. “Do you think I’ll be alright with Sergeant Ambrose and his men? If you feel something is off, you can tell me.” She repeated his words back to him.

“I didn’t realize how passive of a role he would be taking,” Sergeant Damon admitted. “I don’t like my charges going to other people that don’t run things like I do. My way works. My way is the best.”

“You’ll never catch a wife with that attitude,” Gwen teased him. “Maybe his way works too. Nic certainly has a far laxer way with Gavril than you do with me and his way works fine. Keiran did away with his squad altogether and that worked just fine for him. Your way isn’t the only way that works, you know.”

“Perhaps I don’t want a wife,” Sergeant Damon informed her straight faced.

“Oh, you prefer men like Nic? Is that why you are so attached to Daric?” Gwen kept her face just as straight. To her surprise, he only quirked an eyebrow at her telling her how far off she really was.

“There’s a rumor I do not need you starting. I doubt Daric would appreciate it either,” Sergeant Damon informed her. “But tell me honestly, are you concerned that he’s just going to sit at his desk? About having to send him notes when you have concerns about his men rather than him coming to check in with you personally?”

“Well, he’s fairly homely. I might be happier if he doesn’t come around often. He’s not nearly as fun to look at as my former sergeant was.” She let that sink in for a moment before she turned back to her work. “Go finishing packing and organizing. I don’t want to be responsible for when you get to Port Tythrenn or on the ship and realize you forgot you tenth favorite uniform, or something like that.”

“Alright, fine,” he grinned at her again. “Write to me if you feel something is wrong and I’ll check on you when you arrive in Port Tythrenn. If you feel anything is wrong at all, you tell me then and there. I’ll hold you to Solreth’s Truth.”

“How about you hold me to Variel’s Truth instead?” Gwen asked as he walked to the door.

“Because then I’d only get half answers that walk me in circles,” his voice carried back to her. “May the Gods watch over you, Lady Gwen.”

“And you, Sergeant Damon,” she replied, her voice suddenly soft. 

It was the traditional farewell for long separations. Her parents had said it to her brothers and sisters when they had gone to Port Tythrenn. Elden had always said it to her right before he went out of the door to leave after visiting. Her mother had said it to her when she had left for Port Tythrenn just before her tenth birthday. It was a sign that someone cared enough to hope the Gods guided and protected a person while they were gone from sight. No one had said it since her mother. Her father hadn’t said it when she had been left behind at the Temple of Solreth, neither had her brothers. She didn’t realize how much it would mean to her to hear someone care enough to say it again, or how much it would hurt to remember the times she hadn’t heard it.

A moment later the door closed. Sergeant Damon was gone, oblivious to her inner thoughts or the feelings that plagued her. It was better that way. She didn’t want to explain why it mattered. He likely wouldn’t have said it if he knew the meaning her mind had placed on the importance of such statements. Perhaps it would have worried him enough to have kept him from getting his things together to leave on time, and the delay would have kept the ship from leaving with the tide forcing them to stay back until the next tide, and then it would be blamed on her. She knew she was over thinking when she had thoughts like that, but she let it go as it helped her to refocus on not wishing he would have stayed a moment longer.

A second knock on the door a twenty minutes later revealed Gavril and Nic. She had said her goodbyes to them over breakfast, but it seemed they didn’t believe that sufficient.

“Three weeks,” Gavril told her after pulling her into a bone crushing hug. “I’ll show you the wonders of Port Tythrenn. We’ll visit the famous markets and spend some of that allowance you have let pile up. And then we’ll accidentally leave Keiran behind. It will be wonderful.”

“I’m surprised Keiran isn’t with you to hear that statement,” Gwen teased.

“He’s saying his farewells to Ameia,” Nic supplied. “Long, awkward farewells in which neither of them will admit to their feelings and nothing will happen, but both will stand there wanting it to happen. We thought it would be better not to watch it.”

“Agreed. For two very forward, talkative people I’d have thought they would have accidentally blurted out their feelings for one another by now,” Gwen sighed earning a laugh from both Gavril and Nic.

“Did you meet Sergeant Ambrose?” Nic asked when the laughter died down.

“I did, Sergeant Damon brought him by a few minutes ago,” Gwen leaned against her worktable. She did have a stool, several stools actually, but Nic and Gavril were standing so it was only polite for her to remain standing.

“And?” Gavril pressed.

“I’ve gotten the impression from the other men in the Royal Guard that I’ve met that the duty at hand will get done whether their commander stands over them or sits at his desk reading reports.” She shrugged.

“Some men will slack if their sergeant is away,” Nic admitted. “Usually that sort of thinking gets beaten out of them in training, but it’s been known to happen. I don’t actually know the men in Sergeant Ambrose’s squad. We use the practice courts at different times and cross paths very little.”

“Who were they assigned to before being assigned to me? Do you know? Sergeant Damon wouldn’t say.” Gwen asked curious.

“They had their section of the palace to guard. The armory and the treasury, I believe,” Nic leaned against the door.

“I thought Royal Guards were assigned to specific people, not rooms,” Gwen explained her confusion.

“No, Royal Guards are responsible for the main guarding of the palace and the royalty. Sometimes the King assigns a squad to a person of importance. Most Guards are assigned to sections of the palace. A few lucky groups get assigned to people. The King has a specific squad of men he raised up with him as his most trusted guards, handpicked when he was still the Crowned Prince and not the King, and that is Sergeant Damon and his men to Prince Daric.” Nic explained.

Gwen thought about the information she had. She knew before how prestigious of a position Sergeant Damon had had to leave behind when Daric had reassigned him but now there was more to it. He had practically been guaranteed a position of prestige for the rest of Daric’s life until she had come along. No wonder he had truly resented her when Daric had reassigned him without a word of explanation.

“Who has been guarding Daric while he had Sergeant Damon assigned to me?” Gwen asked. He certainly had had more reason to hate her after watching his position handed to someone else.

“No one in particular. Prince Daric doesn’t truly need a guard on the palace grounds. He’s never more than fifty feet from a Royal Guard and he’s a decent warrior himself. At this point it’s to establish their place in the future, establish a routine, and build trust.” Nic stopped leaning on the door and stood straight. “It’s why he needed Damon back for this trip.”

“He doesn’t intend for me to keep Sergeant Damon, does he?” Gwen realized. If he needed his guard back for the trip, then it was likely was just loaning out the squad rather than reassigning them.

“No, I don’t think so. We’d see him inspecting the other men of the Royal Guard more closely if he was looking to build a new squad for himself. But I don’t think he intends to keep Sergeant Ambrose for you either. I think Sergeant Ambrose is temporary as well.” Nic sighed.

“And of course, as it always seems to happen, Gwen, we come to say goodbye and get side tracked,” Gavril chuckled. “Daric is fond of you. He’ll probably, eventually, form a squad especially for you, but he doesn’t need Damon back at this moment so there is no urgency. You can make it an urgent matter like you did this workshop.”

“I won’t tell him that Sergeant Damon needs to be replaced. Now that we’ve reached an understanding, he’s doing a fine job,” Gwen interrupted.

“I didn’t mean that you should indicate he is failing at protecting you properly. I meant you could tell Daric you won’t stand for being passed off from new squad to new squad at every turn.” Gavril grinned at her. “He will make it a priority then. And now, my Chaos Sister, we need to get going. I have a city to inspire with my glorious presence,” he mimicked Keiran’s tone as he said it.

Gwen didn’t think he’d have to work hard to inspire Port Tythrenn. It was well known amongst the locals as Solreth’s City, more so now because of the new temple. He’d likely be worshipped with almost as much fervor as Solreth himself which still ranked above all other gods. But he likely knew that as he had made mention that he had met her brother in the Tythrenn Watch, though when he had mentioned it, he had thought perhaps Elden was a long-lost cousin. That meant he had to have been in Port Tythrenn before and there long enough to meet Elden.

A new thought dawned on her. Gavril would likely run into Elden again. There was a chance, in his good nature, he’d mention her to his friends among the Tythrenn Watch. He did know her surname unlike everyone else and he didn’t know what had driven her not to use it. There was a good chance he’d try and do her a favor by mentioning her to Elden and prove to her that she did have a natural family somewhere.

“Do me a favor, several favors actually, when you arrive in Port Tythrenn,” Gwen started.

“Anything, Gwen,” Gavril gave her a sunny smile.

“Don’t talk about me to your friends in Port Tythrenn. Don’t mention my surname. As far as we are concerned, I don’t have one,” she started. Immediately she saw the frown start to form on his face. “Don’t mention my goddess, don’t mention my Blessing. Variel and Variel’s Blessed are not liked in Port Tythrenn. It’s even better for you if you don’t appear to be close to me once I do get there.”

“Gwen,” Gavril started to argue.

“You said ‘anything’,” Gwen pressed.

“I won’t mention you. I will pretend I don’t know your surname. I will not mention that Variel’s Blessed is coming to Port Tythrenn. But I will not, will never, separate myself from you. You are my sister in the same way that Variel is Solreth’s sister.” He started his argument.

Gwen could easily see the flames flickering in Gavril’s golden eyes marking the point where he was about to become his most stubborn. She would not win that argument, but he had said he wouldn’t speak of her. That alone eliminated the chance he would try and reunite her family. It also eliminated the chance any of the men that had been there the night she had been sent to Faserlaeh realizing she wasn’t dead or still imprisoned.

“Fine,” she cut off the rest of his arguments. “That was for your sake. The rest was for mine. I appreciate it.”

“Alright, we need to go and get out to where everyone is assembling,” Nic sighed. “Would you like to walk out with us? You can wave goodbye and scare Sergeant Damon with your newfound freedom.”

“I think I’d like that,” Gwen stood up straight and let Gavril take her arm. “Are all of your trunks already down in the assembly area?” She asked as they left the workshop.

“Servants brought them down for us. Servants will bring yours down too when you are ready to leave,” Nic explained. “The advantage of being important.”

They walked in silence for several long minutes before Gavril broke the silence again.

“Gwen, explain to me what you meant when you said Variel and Variel’s Blessed aren’t liked in Port Tythrenn.”

Gwen shifted uncomfortably on Gavril’s arm as she started to explain the teachings of Solreth she knew from Port Tythrenn. It was the same conversation she had had with Sergeant Damon and Keiran nearly a month and a half before. She couldn’t believe that Gavril hadn’t heard these things before since he had been to Port Tythrenn before and they weren’t exactly quiet about their views.

“And you think that because you are Variel’s Blessed they will automatically hate you,” Gavril questioned as they made their way outside.

Gwen twisted on his arm again not sure exactly what to say. She knew they hated her. Solreth’s priests hated her long before she had destroyed their temple simply because she had been Blessed by Variel. But now the entire city had a reason to hate her if they were aware the Chaos Blessed had burned down their beloved temple.

“I experienced enough of their feelings towards me when I was a ward of the Temple of Solreth in Port Tythrenn after my Blessing,” she said finally. “I know what awaits me there.” Her voice lowered as they turned into the courtyard where everyone was assembling. She could see Sergeant Damon already mounted on his horse with his men by Daric. Keiran was already there with Ameia and her escort. There were carts being loaded with the trunks of all of those traveling and horses for each man going.

She had asked during breakfast that morning about the logistics involved in getting to the port near Oleryn. She had learned that each horse would be kept at the stables near the harbor until they returned. The carts would be brought back for when she and the other three Blessed left.

Suddenly she felt Gavril stop short and she heard Nic gasp. The men assembling in front of them all started to look up as well and they all appeared to be in some state of awe. Gwen turned to look to see what they were all looking at. Gavril was engulfed in light that seemed to come straight from the sky above. A tingling sensation began to touch at her arm still hooked through Gavril’s where the light touched her. She snatched her arm back out of the light, but the tingling continued. Then almost as suddenly as it came, it vanished.

“Gav?” Nic hesitated as he reached to touch his lover’s shoulder.

Gavril blinked and then shook his head as if to shake himself out of whatever Solreth’s Light had done to him. He shrugged off Nic’s hand and turned to look at Gwen. She could see golden light glowing in his eyes as he met hers.

“Nic, go,” he nodded towards the horses and where the audience of men were still staring at them. Gwen couldn’t break his gaze to see if Nic did as he was told but she heard his footsteps go away from them at a run. Gavril gripped her hands and held them making the odd sensation in her arm intensify tenfold. “Solreth had a message for you,” Gavril explained, the golden light growing brighter in his eyes. “Don’t fear my temples. I am waiting within.” Then Gavril released her hands and cupped her face, his large hands dwarfing her head in his palms. The golden light left his eyes as he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“I should go. I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do.” He nodded towards where the men were still staring at them in awe. “I’ll see you in three weeks,” he told her softly. “Don’t get into too much trouble without me. Three weeks.” He repeated and then let her face go. He turned and walked towards the men still staring at him. Gwen couldn’t help but watch him, her heart starting to race as Solreth’s message to her sunk in.

Solreth had no love for her. She had burned down one of his biggest temples, taking away the place worshipers gathered to ask for his blessings and leave offerings for over four years. She had killed his priests, the men that dedicated their lives to him and brought in more worshipers. She hadn’t even finished her sentence at Faserlaeh which should have ended in her death to pay for the lives she had taken and the damage she had caused to Solreth. Now Solreth was waiting for her in his temple.

“Gwen?” Ameia’s voice broke her out of her thoughts. She turned to see the pretty blonde standing next to her with her two guards standing behind her. “Are you alright? You look pale.” She moved closer and touched Gwen’s arm. “And you’re shaking.” She waited a moment but Gwen could only stare at her. “I think you need a distraction. Come on let’s get you inside. You can show me your new workshop and maybe we can talk about what you’re thinking of making. I could certainly use some supplies for my healer’s kit. Oh! And you can make your own cosmetics, and soaps, and perfumes! I bet you didn’t even think about those things,” Ameia captured her arm and pulled her back inside with her two guards following.

After arriving back at her workshop on Ameia’s arm, Gwen recovered enough of her nerves to show the Eiannae’s Chosen around and bring out her notebook of recipes. They spent the rest of the morning pouring over her recipes while Ameia brought in a healer’s perspective. They had midday in Ameia’s suite and then spent the entire afternoon, dinner, and evening discussing possible recipes for perfumes and cosmetics.

By the time one of Ameia’s guards walked her back to her suite for the night, Gwen had forgotten about Gavril’s message from Solreth. It was only when she realized the two men at her door were not Julian and Aiden did she remember that Sergeant Damon and his men were on the ship heading towards Port Tythrenn. Thinking of them, she was reminded of the message Gavril had given her before he had left as well.

There was no way she could avoid the Temple of Solreth once she arrived in Port Tythrenn. She would have to step inside during the opening ceremony. It was required of all of the Blessed to show their support. Solreth would be waiting for his justice on her there and she would have to face him. 

Knowing that sleep wouldn’t come for a long time, Gwen sat down at her desk and pulled out a sheaf of paper. If she was going to sleep, she would need to take her mind off of what was to come, and writing down all of the ideas she and Ameia had come up with seemed like a good place to start.


	14. Chapter 13

Gwen stared at the trunk in front of her. She needed to pack it so it would be ready for them to leave after breakfast in the morning. But her thoughts were still occupied with the bottles she had left sitting on her worktable back in her workshop. She wanted to go back and do more work. She didn’t want to think about how many shirts she needed to bring or if she needed to pack one more book to entertain her on the ship.

Part of her trunk was taken up by the travel writing desk she had gone out and bought the day before with Ameia and her guards. Inside of the desk was a travel writing kit and several notebooks that held the neatly written versions of her recipes and plenty of blank pages for more. Ameia had also helped her to invest in travel boxes for her bracelets, beauty supplies, and bathing kit which took up their own section of her trunk. But now she needed to pack clothes for the four weeks they would be gone. Ameia had informed her they would have a laundry service when they arrived, but she needed at least one week of clothes and it was better to have a couple weeks’ worth. 

Gwen looked up at her organized dressing room. She needed more than just her normal clothes. She needed silks and brocades on top of her normal, everyday outfits. She needed leggings as well as breeches. Decorated tunics to go over embroidered shirts. She needed plenty of underclothes, stockings, and night clothes. She needed to think of shoes. Part of her questioned if she needed skirts and dresses which did happen to be in her wardrobe, but she couldn’t think of ever wanting to wear one. If Daric tried to require it of her, she’d fight back. She was a Blessed, she could make her own rules.

She finally managed to finish packing clothes by the time the midnight hour was called. The guards at the door were talking quietly to each other when she stepped out of the dressing room dragging the trunk. Neither of them looked up at her and she didn’t expect them to. Over the last two weeks she had only ever met her night guards and they treated guarding her rooms like they were guarding the art galleries. They didn’t acknowledge her, and she didn’t have to acknowledge them. It was a vast change from Sergeant Damon and his men, but she didn’t quite mind. They didn’t argue with her when she left before dawn for her workshop without an escort and didn’t complain when she returned late at night without one either.

At first, she had made a point to tell them where she was going thinking they would stop her or offer to walk with her, but they only nodded their acknowledgement that she had spoken. She guessed that they were only really concerned with guarding her rooms and not her. Perhaps Sergeant Ambrose had given orders that their job was to stand guard of the suite and hadn’t specified that they were to guard her. She wondered if Sergeant Damon would have a fit if he knew that she wasn’t exactly protected at all hours of the day.

Not that she needed escorts. She only ever went to her workshop and to Ameia’s suite where she had started to take dinner. The beautiful woman was teeming with ideas for what uses an herb might have and what could make it better. It seemed to surprise Ameia’s guards more than Gwen that the Moon Blessed actually thought about things that weren’t pretty or gossip.

In the bedroom with the trunk, Gwen flipped open the lid and opened her desk. She carefully extracted her herb book, her precious scroll and list, and the notes she had written already. On top of those, she piled on several more advanced herb and recipe books that she had acquired from her bookshelf. When she was done, she sealed the trunk shut and glanced up at the men in the doorway one more time. She hadn’t ever left after midnight, but she knew she wouldn’t sleep, and she wanted to finish her work in her workshop.

“I’m heading down to my workshop. I’ll be there all night and I’ll have breakfast down there tomorrow. This is the trunk that needs to go.” She patted the large, heavy trunk with the chaos symbol pressed into the leather and wood on all sides. She knew the servants would likely guess that the trunk that needed to go was the only one in the room, but she never wanted to assume and end up looking silly with nothing of hers arriving at the port.

The guards waved at her but didn’t stop their conversation. She wasn’t even sure they heard where she was going or what else she had said other than she was leaving. She shook her head and walked between them out of the door fantasizing about telling Sergeant Damon exactly how well she had been guarded. She almost wished that she could be there when he likely snapped and went to speak with Sergeant Ambrose. Sergeant Ambrose was likely to reply that she hadn’t sent a note of complaint.

Gwen had sent several notes of complaint early on when she hadn’t seen any attempts at an escort even after her schedule became a routine. She had sent the notes simply because she believed Sergeant Damon would be upset if she hadn’t. Sergeant Ambrose hadn’t replied, and things hadn’t changed. She assumed he either had ignored her notes altogether or had misplaced them.

Gwen reached her workshop and opened the door. In the past two weeks she had been busy creating. Her workshop was filled with experiments that had worked in her favor. She had been working on actual useful things for the last two weeks that had filled her shelves with tinctures and balms. 

But now she was working on completing something she had considered frivolous until Ameia had talked her around. On her worktable were several perfume bottles that had been aging for the past week and a half. The clear glass revealed a pale amber liquid inside. It looked like regular perfume, but it wasn’t the flowery scents that Ameia had spent hours describing to her. It was the warm scent of cinnamon touched with the crisp aroma of orange peel. She had added liberal amounts of water to her perfumes to thin the mixture and weaken the overall strength of the scents. She didn’t want to assault noses, but she did want the ghostly scent to stick to her body.

Ameia had gotten her flowery scents in glass perfume bottles the day before, but Gwen had watered them down nearly as much as she had done her own simply because she didn’t want to choke on her own creation whenever she was around the Moon Blessed. And they would be spending plenty of time together over the next week.

Ameia had informed Gwen very bluntly that she did not wish to travel with Edith or Paxton simply because the two darker Blessed did not seem interested in spending time with her and were a couple that she did not want to separate. It meant plain and simple that Edith and Paxton would share a ship and Gwen would share with Ameia. It also meant that Gwen would rarely be without Ameia’s company for the next week.

“Gwen?” A voice came from behind her and she nearly jumped. When Gwen turned, she saw shadowy Edith standing in the half open door. Gwen hadn’t even heard the lock turn or the door open. “I went looking for you in your rooms, but you weren’t there. This is a little late for you to be in here.”

“I don’t think I’ll have an easy time sleeping until we are leaving Port Tythrenn,” Gwen sighed. Edith at least knew about her reasons for not wanting to go to Port Tythrenn. She knew the whole list of reasons and why each one bothered her. “How did you get a key to my workshop?”

“I liberated it from Sergeant Ambrose. He’s not the most attentive Sergeant you’ve had,” Edith grinned as she closed and relocked the door.

“And yet you stole a book from Sergeant Damon, and he’s very attentive,” Gwen grinned back.

“Liberated, not stole,” Edith corrected her. “Have I ever told you about the time that I freed a ring from Prince Daric’s hand before I was even Blessed? No? Well here, this is a good one.” Edith pulled out a stool and sat down next to Gwen before she launched into her story about stalking the Crowned Prince through the shops of Oleryn and how she evaded his ever-attentive guards to slip a silver and ruby ring from his finger. 

That story had spawned another one about another time she had picked both Sergeant Damon and Daric’s pockets during a different outing into Oleryn. Realizing that there were going to be many more stories to follow, Gwen turned to start labeling her bottles of perfume. As the night wore on, Gwen became aware of one very particular thing about her shadowy friend: Edith was fascinated by the Crowned Prince and his guard, and that she made it a point to stalk and steal from them whenever they had left the palace. It was also likely Sergeant Damon had caught on because he had forbidden Gwen to invite Edith into her suite, but it seemed Daric never really realized things had been stolen from him.

“The crowning jewel of my career is still that silver and ruby ring,” Edith grinned as she finished her stories. “Not because it was the most valuable, or that he was such a high-ranking target, or that he had several guards, including the ever-attentive Sergeant Damon, right there watching for such things. It was because he thinks he misplaced it still. I managed to take it right off his hand and he has no idea.” Edith reached down into her shirt to pull out a silver chain with a thick silver ring with three gaudy rubies on the top of it.

“That is very impressive. Are you ever going to reveal it was you to show him how impressive you are?” Gwen asked.

“Pfft. I don’t need to reveal myself for him to know I’m impressive,” Edith gave a snort. “But perhaps I could tease him with it a bit. Here, you have it,” she pressed the ugly ruby ring into Gwen’s hands. “Then when he sees you have it and he asks about it, you can pretend not to know how it turned up in your grasp.”

“With my luck, I’ll get charged for stealing it,” Gwen sighed.

“Unlikely. You can point out you weren’t in Oleryn at the time and his Highness will know you are telling the truth because he knows exactly where you were. If you could steal it from there, you are the most impressive thief I’ve ever known,” Edith shrugged. “At least hold onto it for me. It will give Paxton something to be surprised about when I see him in the morning. He seems to think I’ll never part with it.”

“Speaking of morning,” Gwen looked around to the branches of candles she had lit when she had come in. They had burned fairly low marking that dawn would be in a few hours. It wasn’t that she needed to sleep, but there was a chance that Edith was only still awake because she was trying to be a good friend and not leave Gwen alone.

“Right, we should both catch a bit of sleep,” Edith stood and pushed her stool back in. “I put something in your storage room last night. I thought you’d need it eventually. But I’d still return to your room for a proper bath before we go. Salt water baths aren’t as refreshing and that’s all we will get until we get to Port Tythrenn.” With that Edith was gone before Gwen could blink. The only indication of where she had gone was the door clicking shut once more.

Gwen stood and went to her storage room wondering what Edith had left for her. There in the small closet, Gwen found a pallet leaning up against the wall with a pillow and several blankets folded in front of it. She pulled the pallet out and laid it down on the floor in front of her worktable. Perhaps there was a chance that she could try and get an hour or two of sleep in the comfort of her workshop. 

As she blew out the candles and laid down on the pallet, she wondered how Sergeant Damon would react to her staying in her workshop alone overnight. Despite his attempts to not issue rules on a whim, she suspected this would cause a spontaneous outburst of them. The thought caused her to smile and carried her into sleep.

Four hours later, Gwen was thankful for the two hours of sleep she had managed as she sat next to a radiant Ameia listening to her enthuse over the perfume Gwen had made for her. They were mounted, waiting for everything to be loaded up. To her luck, she had been getting out of the bath when the servants arrived to take her trunk. She had been able to look over the contents once more before she had sent it out. It had been helpful because she had been able to add the folded, soft, green comforter from her bed in case she didn’t like the ones on the ship or at the inn in Port Tythrenn. It also had been helpful in the fact she was certain her trunk had come down with or without her guards paying any mind to it.

Gwen caught sight of Edith as she looked around and found her sitting with her squad of very alert looking guards. As she watched the guards relaxed when more guards joined them and a pale young man joined them. By the way he and Edith fell in together, Gwen guessed she was looking at the elusive Paxton, Orvanus’ Chosen. He was pale skinned, made paler looking by his black eyes and black hair. She continued watching as Edith pointed casually over in Gwen’s direction and Paxton turned to look at her. It was then that Gwen understood why this young man unnerved people. When his eyes met hers, she knew deep in her soul that he could see every secret she had tried to hide. But then he only gave her a smile and a nod of greeting before he turned back to Edith. 

Trying to shake the feeling that Paxton had given her, Gwen looked around for Sergeant Ambrose and the rest of his men. They were together in the back of the line chatting quietly. It appeared that Sergeant Ambrose was genuinely happy amongst his men and didn’t look bored in the least. But he seemed to feel her eyes on him, and he glanced her direction before his smile fell from his face completely when he saw her looking. He turned his mount and rode up to join her at the front.

“Lady Gwen,” he nodded to her. “I trust you know that you won’t have guards watching your room on board the ship?”

Gwen kept her confusion to herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t know she’d be unguarded on the ship, but it seemed like an odd place for him to start a conversation. It almost felt as if he was reminding her that she wasn’t his duty on board the ship and therefore she had no reason to be looking at him now. Except they weren’t on board the ship yet and she still was supposed to be under his protection on or off the ship. 

Of course, she knew she wouldn’t need a guard in her room on a Royal Navy ship. No one on the ship had a reason to be a danger to a Blessed, especially if she kept to herself or to her room. Well, the room she was to share with Ameia, that was.

“Yes, I was made aware of the travel arrangements by Sergeant Aloys,” Gwen nodded to Ameia’s sergeant who sat near enough to turn his head at the mention of his name. Gwen had asked Ameia several nights before if she had heard anything about the rooming arrangements when Sergeant Aloys had been present. The man had become angry but had explained his anger was at Sergeant Ambrose. It seemed that the duty of giving that information to her had been Sergeant Ambrose’s and he had known about that since the day after Daric and his group had left for Port Tythrenn. Sergeant Aloys had sat her down and given her the plan for the next month after his anger had passed.

She and Ameia were to share a room on board the ship. Their twenty guards would divide between five rooms on the ship. The only thing that would change in Port Tythrenn would be that Gwen and Ameia would no longer share a room. Each Blessed was to have their own room when space allowed. On board the ship they did not need guards with them every moment as every man on the ship was Royal Navy or Royal Guard. At Port Tythrenn the sergeants decided their rules themselves. 

Knowing Sergeant Ambrose, off his treatment of her protection at the palace, she guessed he would try and leave her to her own devices and have her room guarded at the inn. It would likely only last until Sergeant Damon got a hold of him, but not having an escort in Port Tythrenn had the potential to be a very helpful thing. No one paid mind to a woman walking by her lonesome much, but they would want to know who she was if she was walking with an escort of Royal Guards.

“Ah, good,” Sergeant Ambrose nodded and then turned his mount and went back to his men without a dismissal.

“I feel like reporting him to our Captain,” Sergeant Aloys growled softly. “He’s proven a sorry excuse for a sergeant in charge of a person, not a room.”

“Captain?” Gwen glanced at him. She hadn’t heard of any Captain of the Royal Guard from anyone though she guessed there had to be one.

“Captain Ebren,” Sergeant Aloys clarified. “He was the Damon of King Alaric’s guard before he became King,” he explained in a way Gwen would understand. “He’ll step down when he dies or when Prince Daric is crowned. Personally, I think he’ll outlive his office.”

“So, then a new Captain is promoted?” Gwen asked, wanting to understand the full structure.

“Sergeant Damon will become Captain provided he still heads Prince Daric’s guard and not yours,” Sergeant Aloys informed her. 

Gwen bit her lip. There was even more of a reason for her to hope that Nic was right and that Daric was going to create a squad especially for her, and not have her keep Sergeant Damon and his men forever. She did not want to be responsible for taking Sergeant Damon’s place away so completely.

“I may just report Ambrose to Damon when I see him,” Sergeant Aloys moved his mount in next to Ameia’s. Ameia gave him a warm smile but didn’t start any conversations of her own. It proved that Ameia was interested in what was being said. “How often have you seen your guards these past two weeks?”

“Only when I go back to my rooms.” Gwen twisted her reins in her fingers before she added, “is there a chance he misinterpreted his orders to guarding my rooms and not me?”

“No, no chance at all,” Sergeant Aloys glared back in the direction of Sergeant Ambrose. “And his men should have known better too. I’ll be having words with Damon and then with Ebren when we get back.”

“If there’s a Captain of the Royal Guard, why is Daric in charge of assigning squads?” Gwen asked suddenly as they started to move out.

“Prince Daric oversees the Blessed. He is allowed his pick of the men no matter what or who they are assigned to. On top of that, part of his other duties includes assisting the Captain in accepting new applicants.” Sergeant Aloys drummed his fingers on his saddle horn. “Are you interested in the markets of Port Tythrenn?” He changed the subject. Gwen suspected it was to keep himself from getting angry enough to go back and give Sergeant Ambrose a lecture on his duties right then and there. “Ameia has been talking my ears off about the different things she plans to buy. I think we’ll need a second or third trunk for her on the way home.”

“Oh, I’m not that bad!” Ameia pretended to pout but she took the cue and took hold of the conversation. “Gwen, you are just going to love the shopping. Clothes made of the finest, most exotic fabrics, the most beautiful jewels, new ingredients for your workshop,” Ameia went off happily filling the long distance to the port with all of the things she thought Gwen would find interesting about Port Tythrenn’s vast market.

The ships that awaited their party when they arrived in the afternoon were very similar to the one that had taken Gwen to Oleryn from Faserlaeh. She had guessed right the few months before that she had been on a Royal Navy ship. She wondered if either of the ships were the one she had been on and if any of the crew would remember her on sight. It was unlikely they would recognize her. She was clean and her body had filled out. And she knew how easily a change of clothes and the styling of hair could change a look. They were unlikely to recognize her at all even if either of these ships had been the one.

“Lady Gwen, Lady Ameia, we are to report to this fine ship over here,” Sergeant Aloys nodded towards the ship docked down to the right. “If we get on board quickly enough then we can possibly send Ameia to charm the cook into feeding us a late midday.”

“I think Lady Gwen could charm a late midday out of a cook better than I could,” Ameia winked at Gwen. “I am glad we didn’t stop to eat midday though. We got here with a lot more time to get situated before the tide goes out.”

“That was the point, Lady Ameia,” Sergeant Aloys grinned. “Let’s get on board the ship. My men will make sure the trunks get on board, both of your trunks,” he glanced at Gwen. She could hear the frustration in his voice indicating it should have been Sergeant Ambrose’s job to make sure it got on board, but he doubted it would happen then.

Boarding the ship this time was different than when she had boarded as a prisoner from Faserlaeh. She wasn’t shackled and being dragged by two unknown men and the uniformed men on board the ship stood at attention as she, Ameia, and Sergeant Aloys walked by. Ameia gave them all a bright smile and a nod encouraging Gwen to give them a small smile as well. 

The room Gwen and Ameia would share was almost exactly identical to the room she had occupied for two weeks on the last ship. There were four bunks with a narrow walkway between them. A chamber pot was tucked between the bunks at the back of the room and there was a just large enough space in front of each bunk for their trunks. The biggest differences in the room opposed to her last time in a room like this were bright mage lights and plush bedding on each bed.

“There will be a kitchen and a mess somewhere down this hall. They like to keep it by the living quarters for function purposes,” Sergeant Aloys explained. “Let’s see if we can charm a small snack out of the cook for the men and for us. If not, dinner probably won’t be too far away.”

“Will they have extra food? I mean, they don’t usually plan for snacks on Navy ships, do they?” Ameia asked.

“Normally, that is correct,” Sergeant Aloys grinned at Ameia. “But now there are two Blessed on board and the Crown likes to make sure the Blessed never go without the comforts they are used to if it can be helped. Hence the nice bedding, and extra food. King Alaric provided extra coin for extra food not just for the additional people on board but for better meals. The men here will eat better for the next week than they normally do. They will love having the two of you on board and not just because you two are beautiful to look at.” He winked at Gwen when she rolled her eyes at the compliment.

No matter how often she heard the men tell her that she was beautiful she just didn’t see it. She was plain next to a stunning creature like Ameia. It was more likely they were complimenting her simply because social protocol was to compliment a woman on her looks. When she was around Ameia she assumed they were including her in the compliment so she didn’t get jealous or feel inferior next to the praise Ameia was used to.

When it came down to it, Gwen didn’t want to be acknowledged for her looks. Men paying close attention to looks were usually looking to at least join a woman in bed. Those with purer intentions usually wanted some sort of romantic relationship. Gwen was certain that it was unlikely any man would want her for a sweetheart if they really knew what she had done and the power she sometimes only barely held in check inside of her. That meant any man really acknowledging her looks was likely looking for joining her in bed, and she was certain she’d never find herself desiring a man in her bed after her experience in Faserlaeh.

“They want to provide us with the comforts we are used to but won’t provide us with a privy. Just a chamber pot,” Ameia sighed.

“You won’t find privies even in the officer quarters on Navy ships. They take up too much space when a chamber pot is just as efficient,” Sergeant Aloys chuckled. “But you will survive one week, Lady Ameia, I promise. Let’s go and look for food.”


	15. Chapter 14

Gwen sat up on the quarter deck at the aft of the ship soaking up the breezes and the sunshine that bathed the open decks. It had become the place she had carved out as her space after observing that it was a decent place to view the work the men of the Navy did as well as the view of the sea beyond while being out of the way of everyone working. And she did do her best to stay out of the way of everyone working. 

“Did anyone think to tell you that we’ll be arriving at Port Tythrenn in the next couple of hours?” Sergeant Aloys plopped down next to her on the crates she had claimed as a seat. Over the past week she had learned a lot about the Royal Navy and life on the sea from Ameia’s sergeant. He had been in the Navy for three years before he had been accepted as a Royal Guard and before that he had worked on his uncle’s cargo ship. He was at home on the sea. 

“No, they avoid me up here as much as I avoid them,” Gwen laughed. 

“Have you seen much of Ambrose or his men since we boarded the ship?” Sergeant Aloys asked.

No, the answer was no. Sergeant Ambrose didn’t seem to leave his room much and the other men didn’t make a point of being around her. It was clear they all fully believed there was no need to be around her on the ship just like they didn’t seem to see the need to be around her outside of her suite at the palace. She didn’t seek them out either. She knew which rooms her guards were in case there was a problem. 

“He hasn’t checked in on you at all, has he?” Sergeant Aloys sighed. “I know you’re safe on the ship. I would trust these men with Ameia’s life and the life of any of my men now. But he should still be checking in on you.” He sighed and then looked up at her. “The men in the Royal Guard are nearly as bad about gossip as the noble women of court. You, Lady Gwen, have sparked a lot of gossip. Prince Daric assigning his own men to you, your lack of a surname, the lack of information about your Blessing, the lack of information about where you came from. I know Damon doesn’t even have that information and it has been driving him insane.”

Gwen glanced at Sergeant Aloys and realized this was the first conversation she had had with him without Ameia there. Their conversations before had all been sparked when he had come to check on Ameia and they had been together. He had sought her out this time without Ameia being her companion. He was making this effort not because she was with the woman he was supposed to protect but because of something else. Perhaps he wanted to see if she would lay rest to some of the mysteries. Perhaps he had been curious enough to finally say something.

“Even more maddening is that there are people at the palace that do know about you. Gavril certainly knows something and so does Sergeant Nic. They both avoid the questions and gossip about you like no other. Prince Daric openly ignores inquiries into your past. Prince Keiran just starts extolling your virtues. And now Ameia, talkative, gossip filled Ameia, avoids talking about you.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was such a curiosity,” Gwen lied. It was more that she wasn’t aware at how many people thought she was a curiosity. She knew that Sergeant Damon had been trying to pry into her past, but she wasn’t aware she was such a gossip worthy topic.

“I think you do know, but you aren’t trying to keep yourself a mystery just for the sake of being a mystery,” Sergeant Aloys leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “What I mean by all of this,” he sighed and rubbed his temples. “What my whole point of bringing it up is not to pry but to tell you we know something bad is being hidden away. That much is obvious. You looked fairly close to death when you arrived at the palace. No man in the Royal Guard is unaware of that fact. Sergeant Ambrose should have been checking on you at the palace, during the ride to port, on the ship here. He should be checking on you now. You are Blessed by Chaos and I think it finds you even where you should be safe.” He stood and paced for a moment. “I’ll be making a report to Damon when I see him in Port Tythrenn. He will know that you’ve been neglected by your guard.”

“Will you let me speak to him first?” Gwen asked. She knew Sergeant Damon would want to know why she hadn’t written to him when her notes to Sergeant Ambrose had been ignored about the escorts. She didn’t need him hunting her down after he got done telling Sergeant Ambrose how he had failed at his duties.

“If I see him before you do, I’ll send him to you first,” Sergeant Aloys agreed. “I’d ask if Sergeant Ambrose spoke to you about the arrival at Port Tythrenn, but I know the answer there as well.” He sat back down to return to the business at hand. “I’d like you to make sure your trunk is packed back up properly sometime before we dock. Ameia has asked that rather than go to the inn and get settled that she be escorted to the markets. I honestly doubt Lord Paxton and Lady Edith will want to head up to the inn right away either after being cooped up on the ship for a week. My men will make sure the trunks get up to the inn and to the right rooms. If you would like, you can join Ameia and I at the markets, or I can assign an escort from my men to go with you wherever you’d like to go.”

Gwen thought about it. She didn’t feel cooped up on the ship, but she guessed those used to more freedom might have felt that way. She had no desire to go into the crowded marketplaces of Port Tythrenn and lose the peace and quiet she had gained in trying to avoid her nerves of Port Tythrenn. When she really thought about it, she knew that she would rather go to the inn and make sure her trunk arrived, and everything was settled.

“I think I would prefer to go to the inn and get settled. I have two weeks to go exploring,” Gwen managed to smile. “And if I go with the guards bringing up the trunks, you won’t have to send an escort.”

“The trunks will take a while to go up. I’ll have someone go up with you right away. You can take a nice bath.” Sergeant Aloys stood again. “Don’t wait too long before going down to make sure you’re all packed up.” He gave her a nod and left.

Gwen didn’t need to make sure her trunk was all packed though. She had overheard the Captain of the ship talking the night before about the estimated time they’d arrive at Port Tythrenn. So she had made sure she was packed up before she had left her room that morning and had made sure that Ameia knew she should get things in order as well. It meant she could enjoy her day watching the shoreline ahead grow from a shadow on the horizon to a bright and bustling harbor.

When they docked, Gwen found a guard named Rupert from Sergeant Aloys’ squad waiting to walk with her up to the inn. Sergeant Ambrose didn’t seem to glance at her twice as he organized his men and their belongings to leave the ship. She waited until she saw her trunk leave the ship to be loaded on a cart before he allowed Rupert to lead the way through the harbor crowds.

“At least it’s easy to not get lost here,” he told her as he hooked her arm through his. “We’re going to the Temple District and all we have to do if we get lost is look up for that,” he pointed up towards the top of the hill that Port Tythrenn was built on. At the very top was an enormous white marble building with a golden sundisk over the yellow cloth covered door clearly visible even from the harbor. When the Temple of Solreth opened in just over a week, the cloth would be removed, and the doorway would remain open to all at all hours on all days.

“The inn is in the Temple District?” Gwen asked.

“Yes, My Lady. Most cities have a district for nobility that marks the best shops, the best eating houses, and the best inns. In Port Tythrenn, that district doesn’t house nobility, it houses the Gods!” He waved at the giant temple topped hill. Just below the new Temple of Solreth the other temples were visible but not nearly as large or showy. “And the city is watched over by the best God of them all! I mean, um,” he looked at her and blushed.

“You’re from the area, aren’t you?” Gwen asked. She knew the sound of a man that had grown up in Port Tythrenn. She would have guessed the same of Sergeant Damon if she hadn’t learned otherwise.

“My family runs a bakery in a village not too far from here,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to insult your goddess, Lady Gwen,” he blushed deeper.

“Solreth is a Great God,” Gwen shrugged. “Were you in the Tythrenn Watch then?”

“No, I joined the army when I was eighteen and Captain Ebren recruited me when my company cycled through their turn at the palace.” He explained. She let him launch into the story about his abduction into the Royal Guard as they pushed through crowded streets towards the prestigious Temple District.

Gwen noticed the uniformed patrols of the Tythrenn Watch the moment they entered the Temple District as the crowds thinned. She felt her heart start to race not wanting to be noticed by any of them. There was a chance one of them would recognize her. There was a chance one of them would be Elden and he would turn her back in though she had been pardoned by the Crown. 

“And here we are, The Merry Wood,” Rupert pointed to a large building with a beautiful courtyard in the front of it. Gwen frowned at the name. She certainly didn’t remember any inns in the Temple District by that name and the sign out front looked fairly new. “I hear they renamed it after a Sergeant in this district’s watch. He’s apparently one of the best men the Watch has ever had. Perhaps Prince Daric will offer him a position in the Royal Guard.” He steered her through the front courtyard into the front door of the inn.

The common room of the inn was large and filled with tables and chairs. Several of the chairs were occupied by men in Royal Guard uniforms. Gwen recognized them immediately. They were men from Sergeant Damon’s squad and from Nic’s squad, likely those that were off duty for the time being.

“Lady Gwen!” She saw Julian stand. “You made it alive!”

“I’ll go find out which room is yours,” Rupert whispered into her ear before he left her to Julian.

“So I did,” she turned to smile at her former night guard. “And I see they left you behind to terrorize the inn.”

“Damon isn’t that much of a slave driver that he makes me work overnight and during the day,” he grinned. “Perhaps you’d like to explain to me why you are being escorted by Rupert and not by someone in the squad assigned to you.”

“I have some talking to do with Sergeant Damon it seems,” Gwen shrugged.

“You didn’t want to go shopping or go haunt the alchemists of the exotic Port Tythrenn?” Julian asked.

“I thought I’d get settled first,” she glanced around at the other men to find they were listening from where they were. 

“Lady Gwen, this is Lucile, she is going to show you where your room is. I asked for a bath to be brought up for you, and we’ll send up your trunk when it gets here.” Rupert returned with a girl no older than twelve. “I’m also going to have Ambrose check in on you when he gets here.”

“Thank you,” Gwen turned to give Rupert a smile. “I’m sure I’ll see you later, Julian,” Gwen nodded to him and to the other men watching before trotting off after the young Lucile.

They went up two flights of stairs to the third floor and then down a long hall. They stopped at the end of the hall in front of a large door decorated with an oak tree. “This one is your room. We’ll have your bath up in a few minutes,” Lucile handed over the key and then dipped a curtsey before leaving.

The room she was in was large but managed to contain a table with chairs, a fireplace, a wardrobe, a vanity with a stool, a canopied fourposter bed, several armchairs, and a small side room with a tub and a privy. She went to the window to look out and saw she had a perfect view of the Temple of Solreth out of the window and a garden three stories below. Gwen guessed that the only person that would be able to climb through that window was Edith, and it would likely be easy for Voleus’ Chosen.

“Lady Gwen? We’re going to start filling the bath now,” Lucile announced from the door. She turned to see several young teenagers holding pitchers of steaming water. Unlike at the palace where water was brought in through pipes, the inn, as well as most places in Port Tythrenn had to rely on water being heated and brought in pitcher at a time to be dumped into a tub. It would take quite a few trips for it to be filled so she returned her attention to the window. 

She could see the stables just beyond the garden and remembered eight years before the youngest of her three brothers had found work as a stable boy at an inn such as this one. She couldn’t remember the name of the inn he had worked for or which district it had been in. Nor could she remember the shops her sisters had worked in though it was likely that Ameia would cross them if she did happen to visit any shops full of cloth and dresses. She wished she could remember so she could avoid them.

As much as she wished she remembered so she could avoid them, she also found herself wanting to look in on them and the life she could have had. Her sisters and brothers were all likely married with children. She would have had nieces and nephews to spoil. Perhaps she, herself would have been married already and would have found herself well established as an alchemist had she not have been Blessed. If she had just done as she had been told that day, if she had just gone to Eiannae’s Temple that was the life she might have had.

Except she had felt drawn to Variel’s Temple. She had found the overgrown path when all others seemed to ignore it or overlook it. She had climbed the path and had felt compelled by something inside of her to give that flower as an offering to Variel. So perhaps she had been destined to be Blessed. Perhaps it had been decided long before she had gone to the temple. Perhaps it had been decided well before she had even entered Port Tythrenn and Variel had called to her when she had wandered through the Temple District alone. If that was the case then the life she imagined for herself, the life her siblings had now, was not the life she had ever been destined to have.

Had Variel meant for all of this to happen to her? Had it all been fate for her to be abandoned at the Temple of Solreth? Had it been fate for her to have burned it down? Had Faserlaeh been her fate? She had a hard time believing that Variel had wanted all of that for her as her Blessed, but then again Variel was chaos and discord. Perhaps Variel’s Blessed was supposed to experience chaos and discord firsthand.

“Your bath is ready,” Lucile informed her.

“Thank you, Lucile,” Gwen turned to face the young girl and managed to produce several copper coins from her belt purse to give each child that had carried up the water a tip. They took the coins the left the room. Once the door was closed and locked behind them, Gwen stripped off her clothes and settled into the hot water.

Edith had been right a week before when she had said saltwater baths weren’t as refreshing as a freshwater bath. The salt always left her feeling just as dirty as when she got into the water. The fresh water helped her to soak away the salt from her skin and her hair. Thinking of how long it would take the carts to get through the crowds Gwen doubted her trunk would arrive any time soon, so she soaked until the water turned cool. The tub did at least have a drain that she assumed went down into the garden below.

Gwen was surprised to find that when she had just barely finished pulling her clothes back on, there was a knock on the door. By her guess, it was far too soon for her trunk to have arrived or for Sergeant Ambrose since he was with his men with her trunk. That left Sergeant Damon. She had thought he and Daric would likely be at the Temple or anywhere else until at least dinner meaning it was too early but that was also a guess. She prepared to tease him about barely giving her a chance to settle in before he interrogated her as she opened the door.

She found herself looking at the purple tunic covered chest of a man in the Royal Guard, but this man was not Sergeant Damon, nor any of the men she knew from her time at the palace. But she did know him and, by the ugly grin he was giving her, she realized he recognized her as well. The bear of a man pushed the door open wider as Gwen stood frozen looking up at his narrow eyes, curled short hair, and a scar that stretched over his jaw on the left side. It was the first time she was seeing him in color, but she still recognized him.

“Lady Gwen,” he growled out her name. “Or should I say 8097. Sergeant Ambrose sent me to check on you,” he forced her back as he stepped further into the room. “I have been hoping for this moment since we were assigned to you, but you were never in your rooms,” he smirked at her. “But all the better because I have you alone now.”

Gwen’s heart stopped. This was one of her guards. One of the seven men she hadn’t met from her guard and somehow had missed noticing throughout the entire ride to the port outside of Oleryn and on the weeklong journey on the ship. How had she missed him? But she hadn’t really looked to the men in Sergeant Ambrose’s squad, just to Sergeant Ambrose himself. And honestly, she had thought she was safe from something like this, so she hadn’t stared too hard at the faces of the men that were with Sergeant Ambrose. Daric had gone through such troubles to give her his own squad because none of them had been prison guards ever. She would have thought he would have at least ensured that the second squad he gave her didn’t have any men from Faserlaeh.

She heard the door close and realized she was in a bad position. If he was telling the truth, and she suspected he was, Sergeant Ambrose had sent him up to check on her in his place. It was, once again, a sign that Sergeant Ambrose didn’t want to face her himself even though Rupert had said he was going to have Sergeant Ambrose come up to check on her. 

She was on the third floor, well away from the common room. Was there anyone in the room next door? She hadn’t heard any movement from that room. Was there anyone in the hallway that could hear her? It didn’t seem likely. When Lucile had brought her up the floor had appeared deserted. Perhaps the people that had the rooms on this floor were all out exploring the markets or the temples at this time of day. Hadn’t Gwen proven earlier with her conversation with Sergeant Aloys that she was the only one that wanted to go to the inn right away? Her only hope was that since Sergeant Ambrose and his men had arrived, her trunk had arrived, and someone was going to bring it up and stop this from happening.

“Come on, it will be just like old times,” his voice took on the oily quality it had in Faserlaeh when he had been making his pick of which woman he was going to take from the line to abuse. “You look far tastier than the last time.” His small eyes drifted downward over her body as if he could see through her clothes already. He smacked his lips as his hands inched towards her.

Gwen broke from her stupor and she turned to run for the window. Anything was better than facing this man, even the broken bones or death that would result from jumping into the garden below. He had been one of the worst when she had been at Faserlaeh. He took pleasure in listening to the muffled screams of his victims. She managed to unlock the window and push it open, but he caught her wrist and wrenched her backwards. She twisted out of his bruising hold and scrambled over the top of the bed to put it between them, pulling the covers and pillows off as she went. She heard the window slam shut as she ran for the door. She passed the dining table and chairs, overturning them as she ran by. She needed to create obstacles between them to slow him down.

If she could get out into the hall it was unlikely he would attack her. There were more chances for witnesses, for someone to hear if they were outside of her room. If she could get out into the hall and down the stairs she could find someone she trusted. She could find Julian. She could find Rupert. She could find anyone that wasn’t Sergeant Ambrose or any of his men. And if all of them were gone, she would run outside to find the men from the Tythrenn Watch. Even facing them was better than facing this man and what he seemed intent on doing. If she could hold out until Sergeant Damon and Daric came back, she could tell Daric she needed a different squad of guards immediately. She had enough evidence against Sergeant Ambrose to have him removed from her guard off his negligence alone, but the addition of this monster was enough for her to ask for them all to be removed. How many other monsters were hiding in the men she hadn’t noticed on her guard?

Gwen reached the door and fumbled with the lock. She cursed in her head. Now was not the time for her hands to stop being steady. She needed to get out in that hall now. A hand caught the back of her neck and ripped her away from the door tossing her to the floor. She heard the sound of a blade being removed from a sheath and had a vision of him pulling his sword on her. She started to crawl away trying to put some distance between him and her. She needed to escape him somehow. 

A scream escaped her lips as she felt the bite of a blade in her shoulder. A bone crushing grip found her other shoulder and she was flipped over. The monster knelt over her, a dagger drawn and already dripping with her blood. 

“I think you’ve forgotten your place,” he informed her as the hand with a dagger twisted in her shirt, tearing it in his hold. “Let me remind you of it.”


	16. Chapter 15

Damon

Damon kept his eyes on the crowd around him and the three other men he had brought to protect Daric and Keiran as they inspected the wares of the famous Port Tythrenn markets. His mind was elsewhere. They were near enough to the harbor that they could see the flags of two Royal Navy ships. It was the day that the other Blessed were due to arrive and that was a sure sign they had made it. 

He wanted to go to the docks and find Lady Gwen to make sure she was in one piece. He wanted to find out if she had written to him and she had just managed to beat her letter to him. He wanted to find out if Sergeant Ambrose was doing a terrible job, or worse, a better job than he had. As much as he had fought against being Lady Gwen’s guard, he hated seeing her handed off. And it was a matter of pride that he remained the best in the eyes of anyone that he was charged with protecting.

“Damon, what do you think of these?” Daric called him over to point to a pair of wide bracelets. They were pounded silver with pink gemstones encrusted in flowing swirls around the length of it.

“I think they might be a bit feminine for your normal wear,” he teased looking over the bracelets again. There was no mistaking who Daric was looking at bracelets for. Both of them only knew one lady that wore bracelets, especially matching pairs of bracelets.

“What do you think of these for Lady Gwen?” Daric amended much to the humor of the shopkeeper showing the bracelets.

“I’m not sure you’d impress her with pink,” Damon sighed. Or with another pair of bracelets at all. She seemed to prefer the soft leather cuffs that were always on her wrists, even in her sleep. He had never known anyone so devoted to a piece of jewelry except for Daric and that damned ruby ring he had lost years before but still expected it to turn up at every turn.

“Well, pink, silver, and purple are the common display colors of Variel. I thought she might want them for occasions where she has to represent,” Daric murmured quietly. Damon had found, along with Daric and everyone else, any mention of Variel brought about prayers to Solreth and a sudden disinterest in any conversation with whoever mentioned the name from the locals. Gwen hadn’t been joking about the opinion of Variel in this city and he realized she had every right to not want to subject herself to the fear that followed the Goddess of Chaos.

“Then you don’t need my opinion,” he shrugged. Daric would do what he wanted with or without Damon’s opinion. If Damon could give an honest opinion it would have been to not give Lady Gwen another set of bracelets that she wouldn’t wear. Keiran had given her a vast number of them when she had arrived at the palace.

“Do you have anything with both amethyst and pink topaz in a pattern like this? On silver, of course?” Daric asked the shopkeeper.

“I don’t see why you are trying to give Gwen more bracelets. She has probably thirty pairs that we’ve only seen a fraction of,” Keiran commented from nearby. “If you’re trying to impress her, buy her expensive ingredients for her workshop. Though I don’t know why you are trying to impress her in the first place.”

“Maybe I think she’s worth impressing,” Daric commented. “And I just gave her a whole workshop filled with supplies and ingredients so she can play at being an alchemist. Maybe she’d like to be treated like a true lady for once. Have you considered that?”

Damon didn’t think that that was the case. Lady Gwen didn’t truly flirt. She used her eyes to give side long glances that could be interpreted as flirting but only when she was instructed that flirting would benefit her. But Lady Gwen went out of her way to avoid being treated like a lady. She didn’t like to be led by her arm when she was being escorted. She didn’t wear gowns or dresses. She didn’t spend hours styling her hair or painting her face to achieve a lady-like look. She had even told Gavril and Nic in his presence long before that she didn’t understand why women liked receiving cut flowers as gifts.

And he knew now that she had been attacked by a man before. She was young enough that it was likely that was her first, and possibly only, experience with a man. She didn’t trust men easily and he knew she couldn’t sleep with someone watching her. Perhaps that meant she wasn’t about to pursue a romantic relationship of any kind. Especially not the types of relationships that Daric was used to.

“Gwen isn’t the type of woman to fall at your feet because a Prince buys her jewelry. She also isn’t the type of woman you can romance and pop into your bed for a quick tumble,” Keiran spoke the words that Damon was thinking.

“Is it so hard to believe I might actually think more of her than that?” Daric turned to glare at his younger brother.

“Yes, yes it is. You barely spend any time with her. You don’t even really know her,” Keiran snapped.

For once Damon found himself agreeing with Keiran. Daric had spent limited time with Lady Gwen and had only made her a priority before he left because she had informed him that she didn’t believe he would. And Damon had had to stand over Daric’s shoulder the whole time he went to pick out a suitable room to turn into a workshop, as he placed orders for supplies, and orders for equipment. It had been unlikely Lady Gwen would have gotten her workshop before they left if Daric had been left to his own devices

“Ah, here’s the most pleasant view in all of Port Tythrenn,” Keiran’s whole tone changed causing both Daric and Damon to look the direction he was gazing along with the other three guards. A few stalls down Damon first noticed the uniform of another Royal Guard, followed by the beautiful Ameia as she leaned over to inspect the wares of that shopkeeper.

“Sergeant Aloys!” Damon raised his voice over the crowds. Of all of the people they could have seen from the group that had come in that day, he was thrilled it was Sergeant Aloys. That man took his responsibilities seriously. The only better thing would have been if Lady Gwen had been in the markets as well, but Damon doubted he’d find her wandering about near the jewelry and clothing stalls.

Damon caught the grateful look Keiran shot to him as Ameia turned to see who was hailing her Sergeant and gave a dazzling smile before leading the way over herself. It surprised Damon that Keiran was so tongue-tied with a woman. He had almost been as bad as Daric with women for a while but then his Blessing had come around and he had changed. And Damon guessed that Ameia wasn’t like any other woman Keiran had ever pursued.

“Your Highnesses, Sergeant Damon,” Aloys gave a bow to Daric and Keiran before giving a nod to Damon and the rest of the men. “I trust you’ve been holding the place down until we could arrive.”

“Naturally. I trust that your journey was smooth?” Damon asked.

“The seas were perfect,” Aloys grinned. He released Ameia’s arm for her to wander a bit closer to Keiran.

“And everyone made it safely then?” Damon pressed. It was likely that he knew exactly which ‘everyone’ Damon was talking about. He expected Aloys to roll his eyes at the question or even laugh about Damon’s protectiveness. Instead he saw Aloys shift in his gaze and his eyes shadowed. “What? Everyone did make it alright, right?”

“You promised Lady Gwen, Al,” Ameia’s voice made Damon turn slightly.

“What happened to Lady Gwen?” Daric asked over Damon’s shoulder. “Is she alright?”

“Nothing happened to Lady Gwen,” Aloys straightened the moment Daric started asking questions. “She’s fine.”

“What did you promise her, then?” Damon almost growled with his frustration. He knew down in his gut there was something that he needed to know and Aloys was withholding that information.

“I promised I’d let her do the talking first,” Aloys sighed. “She asked me to hold off on reporting to you until she had a chance to explain things for herself.”

“Explain what?” Daric demanded. “You can tell her I demanded you report now.”

Damon saw Aloys fidget for a second longer before his shoulders slumped. He looked to Ameia and there was a look of true regret that crossed his face. “She can’t expect me to ignore a royal command, can she?”

“Gwen knows all about duty and loyalty in the Guard. I doubt she would have faulted you if it was Sergeant Damon demanding you report now,” Ameia assured her Sergeant.

“It’s not like Lady Gwen can’t fend for herself. She proved she knows how to look after herself well enough without an escort tailing her here and there. But even she realizes that Ambrose has been ignoring his duties to her. She’s only ever met the two men that stand guard in her rooms overnight at the palace. She doesn’t know the others. She’s been unescorted everywhere she goes except when she accompanies Ameia places, or I send someone to go with her from my squad. I had Rupert take her up to the inn when we landed and Ambrose just ignored her.” Aloys growled. “He ignored his orders from Captain Ebren to update Lady Gwen on the travel plans. I informed her of everything because I heard her asking Ameia if she knew what was going on. He probably would have left her at the palace if he could have. He’s a sorry excuse for a Sergeant, for a Royal Guard, and I don’t know how he ever got to a place to be chosen to guard a human life, let alone one as valuable as a Blessed.”

Damon stared at Aloys. Ambrose had neglected Lady Gwen, that was clear. He even sensed that there was more that Aloys wanted to say about the matter but he was getting too angry. 

“She didn’t write to me that any of this was going on,” Damon found himself saying. “I told her to write to me.”

“Hence why I’m sure she wanted to talk to you first. She wanted to explain her actions, I think,” Aloys’ shoulders slumped again.

“I should go talk to her,” Damon sighed with a glance towards Daric.

“I should too. I clearly failed in assigning her a proper guard,” Daric’s own shoulders had slumped. “You said she went to the inn?” He asked Aloys.

“I had Rupert escort there. She said she’d prefer to settle in rather than go out and explore,” Aloys confirmed.

“She probably wouldn’t want to explore,” Keiran spoke up. “Port Tythrenn was her home for just over four years. She already knows what to expect of this place.”

Damon glanced at Keiran and saw the shadowed look that crossed his face. While none of them expected Lady Gwen to be in immediate danger, they had experienced what it was like to mention Variel’s name in this city. Damon himself had heard her say the priests that had manned the previous Temple of Solreth had punished her harshly for her connection to Variel. Perhaps she didn’t want to explore. Or perhaps if she did want to explore she wouldn’t want to do so with a Royal Guard in uniform announcing she was one of the Blessed. All of Port Tythrenn had to know that the Royal Guard had invaded their city to guard the Crowned Prince and the Blessed.

“We should go see her now. I’ll find some way to apologize to her after I make it right.” Daric sighed.

“What’s your plan to make it right?” Damon asked as they started to walk. To his surprise Keiran, Ameia, and Aloys all fell in with the rest of the guards that moved to follow them.

“I may have to split some guards here, but I’ll ask for volunteers from each squad. No one Sergeant will be shorted too much.” Daric sighed again. “I’m going to pay for this like I paid for neglecting her when she asked for that meeting. She won’t believe I’ll follow through on anything now.”

The crowds parted for them as they left the markets and turned up the main street that went towards the Temple District. Damon glanced up at the Temple of Solreth that topped the hill. Gavril was there helping the priests get things in order. Was he in a position to see the Royal Navy ships in the harbor? After his brush with Solreth’s Light he had blatantly ignored all questions about what had happened. All he would say was that the person that needed to know what Solreth had to say had been talked to. That had left Lady Gwen as the intended recipient which only added more questions Gavril refused to answer. He had even ignored Nic’s attempts at finding out what had needed to be said to Lady Gwen. He passed it off as nothing important.

But Gavril had been counting the days until the other Blessed arrived along with Keiran each night. Keiran was at least obvious as to who he wanted to see and why he counted the days. Gavril seemed to think he was hiding it, but it was clear to Damon that he wanted to check on Lady Gwen. What sort of message had Solreth wanted to give her? She had paled quickly and had been practically dragged away by Ameia and her guards.

Perhaps Gavril had watched the Royal Navy ships come in from the top of the hill. Perhaps Gavril had made his excuses to the priests and had gone to the inn to check on his Chaos Blessed sister. Despite Damon’s initial rule that Gavril wasn’t to be substituted for a proper guard, he felt better thinking that Gavril was visiting Lady Gwen while her current guards were such idiots.

Outside of the inn, Daric stopped to look at the cart that had been used to bring up the trunks from the harbor. It was surrounded by the off-duty men of Damon’s squad and of Gavril’s squad. When they parted for Daric, Damon could see one particular trunk had been damaged almost beyond recognition. Its leather exterior was scored and shredded as if someone had tried to tear it off. The top of the box was singed as if someone had tried to light it on fire. The lock was intact but dented as if someone had tried to break it off with a rock. The entire trunk was dented as if it had been thrown to the ground several times. The only undamaged piece showed a part of two arrows with a circular line going through them. It was a fraction of the Chaos Symbol and the damaged trunk belonged to Lady Gwen.

“What’s this?” Daric demanded.

“We tried asking Sergeant Ambrose and his men since they had accompanied the trunks up, but no one had anything to say other than they had thought someone else was responsible for coming to get it.” Aiden turned to face Damon. “Lady Gwen doesn’t know yet.”

“She’s still up in her room?” Daric asked.

“Yes. She went up there a couple hours ago to bathe and settle in.” Aiden glanced up at the windows. “It could have been anyone that did this. We know the general attitude towards Variel here and her trunk was emblazoned with Variel’s sign on all sides.”

“Let’s get this up to Gwen and have her check to see what might be damaged,” Keiran stepped forward to take one side of the trunk. Damon broke away from Daric to take the other side. With Lady Gwen on the third floor it was better for two men to carry the trunk rather than let one person deal with the weight and the stairs.

“Remind me why you assigned her to the third floor?” Keiran puffed as they reached the top landing.

“Because I wanted to make sure Lady Gwen was well protected in this city. She was worried about her safety and I assigned her a room where she would be safe. Her room is next to Gavril’s and there is no access from the window. She’s at the end of the hall so there is no one coming from that side. Anyone intending harm to her would have to get past everything else first. She’s the absolute safest she’s going to be up here,” Damon reminded Keiran. He had been in charge of assigning the Blessed’s rooms.

While there was no official ranking of the Sergeants underneath of Captain Ebren, it was well respected that Damon was the second in command due to his future as Captain when King Alaric left his throne to Daric. Only death or resignation would take that position from Damon and he expected neither of those things to happen any time soon. His rank as second in command put him as completely in charge while they were in Port Tythrenn. It meant more responsibilities and duties for him, but it also meant he could give Sergeant Ambrose a piece of his mind while also looking out for Lady Gwen.

At the end of the hall Lady Gwen’s door was locked and when Daric knocked, the inside was silent. He knocked again and announced himself. Damon understood that he was probably thinking Lady Gwen wouldn’t open the door for anyone she didn’t know. There was still no answer.

“Perhaps she is sleeping?” Daric turned to ask.

“She wouldn’t sleep through a knock on the door. She doesn’t sleep through someone breathing within thirty feet of her,” Damon felt the hair go up on the back of his neck. Something wasn’t right. His men that had been trying to figure out what to do with her trunk would have noticed her leaving if she had left. There was only one exit out of the inn and that was through the main gate. Lady Gwen had to still be in her room.

“Let me,” Damon set his side of the trunk down and pulled a key from his pocket. He hadn’t told Daric or even his own men, but he held the spare key to Lady Gwen’s room. He hadn’t wanted to admit to anyone that he worried for her enough to want to check in on her without having to wait for the innkeeper to come open her door or for her to answer him. 

The lock was undone with an audible click and Damon turned the handle. The door opened a fraction of an inch before it stopped dead with the weight of something behind it. He backed up to inspect the crack in the door a moment before he put his weight behind his shoulder and gave a hard shove. The sound of something scraping across the wooden floors inside reached his ears. The door had been barricaded by some piece of heavy furniture, but Lady Gwen wasn’t strong enough to move something that heavy on her own. Someone much stronger had to have barricaded the door. Damon back up and gave another great push against the door and dug his heels into the floor to keep pushing forward.

The door opened just enough for him to squeeze through. Damon stepped back and drew his sword and waited. He heard no noise inside. He heard no shuffling of someone getting ready for an attack. He waited another moment in silence knowing that when he tried to squeeze through the gap in the door, he’d be vulnerable until he was on the other side.

“If you hear fighting, go,” he whispered to Daric and Keiran before he lowered his sword so he could slide through the small crack of space he had made. On the other side he raised his sword again and let his sharp gaze whip around the room to confront an attacker. There was none. No one was in sight. But what he did see what disheartening. 

The room was destroyed. The vanity had been pushed against the door, the stool for it lay across the room upside down. Both armchairs by the fireplace were overturned and had been slashed with some sort of blade. The dining table and chairs had been flung across the room leaving broken legs and piece of shattered wood where they had landed. The curtains on the window and the bed had been hacked off. The mattress to the bed had been pulled off and cut open leaving the down stuffing to cover part of the floor. The pillows and covers to bed were in a pile on one side of the bed. The heavy bedframe itself had moved. There were marks on the wood floors where it had been dragged a foot to one side.

“There’s blood,” a voice made Damon turn quickly and level his sword. Keiran stood back by the door to the hallway completely unfazed by Damon’s blade pointed his way. Instead his eyes were on the bright red puddle between the bed and door and the drops of blood that led away from it. “Is she even here anymore?”

“No one saw her leave,” Damon reasoned. “She has to be here somewhere. I’ll check the privy. You check the wardrobe,” he pointed to the untouched wardrobe standing against one of the walls. Perhaps Lady Gwen was hiding inside of it or the privy to protect herself from another attack. The privy was empty of both an attacker and of Lady Gwen. It was also seemingly untouched.

“The wardrobe is empty,” Keiran announced. “It looks like whoever attacked her went out of the window,” he nodded to the open window and the rope hanging over the ledge. “They couldn’t have taken her out that way if they did take her.”

“Quite right,” Damon glanced over the edge of the window to see no one in sight and no evidence of where they had gone. 

He turned to glance around the room once more. Lady Gwen had to be hiding somewhere. Perhaps she was too scared to come out or unconscious and unable to leave her hiding spot. His eyes swept over the mattress, but it was too flat with the down pulled out of it to hide her body. The pile of blankets and pillows was too small. The opening under the bed was too short for a person to get under. The hollow under the vanity was empty. His eyes went back to the opening under the bed and the marks on the floor. Lady Gwen was smaller than a normal person. Perhaps she had escaped her attacker and had made it under the bed. Perhaps that was why it appeared as if someone had tried to move it. They would have had to move it to get to her then. Perhaps now she was stuck.

Damon knelt down by the edge of the bed and lowered himself to the floor. He could only get a hand and his forearm under it the small in opening. His bicep and shoulder were too big for him to get far and it was too dark under the bed for him to see anything.

“Get me a light,” he demanded to Keiran. Keiran disappeared and returned almost immediately with a mage light. Damon held in one hand and pressed his head to the floor to look at what it cast its light on. There directly in the center under the bed was the very small unclothed body of Lady Gwen. 

“Lady Gwen? It’s Sergeant Damon. Are you conscious?” He used the softer tone of voice he had used the day she had created the cyclone. She didn’t move even a twitch at him speaking to her. “We have to lift this bed.” He sat up and looked around to see Keiran still standing nearby and Daric standing in the door looking pale and frozen as he looked over the room. “Daric, go get Sergeant Aloys, Ameia, and find whatever Watch Patrol is pacing nearby. Whoever did this is out there running around the city.” Daric continued to stand frozen. “Daric, now!” He growled. The Crowned Prince turned and pushed his way through the door once more to follow orders.

“How are we going to move the bed?” Keiran asked.

“I think between you, me, and Sergeant Aloys we can get this bed up to move it,” Damon went to one side and gave an experimental tug on the wood. It was heavy enough that one muscled man could only drag it. Two would be able to move it. Three would possibly lift it enough to clear Lady Gwen underneath.

“How did no one hear any of this happening?” Keiran asked looking around the room. 

Damon had wondered the same thing, but he already knew the answer. All the safety measures he had thought were in place to protect Lady Gwen had worked in her attacker’s favor this time. She had been as far from the common room as possible. The rooms under her and to the side of her were empty of their inhabitants at this time of the afternoon. No one was close enough to hear her. The only thing that should have been a safety measure that should have protected her when all else failed was Sergeant Ambrose and his men. She should have had a guard at least check on her when they arrived with the trunks.

“Sergeant Damon?” Aloys called from the door. “What’s going on?”

“We need your help moving the bed. Lady Gwen is unresponsive underneath of it,” Damon turned to face Aloys as he came through the door and did his own survey of the damage. Ameia inched in after him and let out a gasp. “Lady Ameia if you would take a hold of Lady Gwen and pull her out when we get the bed up?” He went to a side of the bed and waited for Keiran and Aloys to take up positions. Ameia knelt down on the floor intent on the opening under the bed. “On the count of three. One. Two. Three.” 

They lifted and Damon felt his muscles strain as they pulled the heavy frame upwards. He wasn’t even sure they had cleared the ground more than a couple of inches but then he heard Ameia’s voice.

“Got her, you can put it down now.”

Damon didn’t drop his end and neither did Keiran or Aloys. They lowered the bed carefully. Only then did Damon turn to see Ameia wrapping a sheet around Lady Gwen’s pale skin. Already he could see blood on one shoulder and a bloody mess across her chest. One eye was blackened, and her lips were both split.

“Keiran?” Ameia’s voice held a note of confusion and terror that Damon didn’t want to hear. “Come look at this.” Ameia held the sheet up enough for Keiran to look over her shoulder at the bloody mess on Lady Gwen’s chest without Damon or Aloys being able to see. Keiran’s dark eyes went wide and he looked up startled.

“Damon, go grab Daric now. Tell him we don’t want the Watch here. We don’t want anyone here. Sergeant Aloys, you need to leave now. Tell no one what’s happened up here. That’s a royal command.” Aloys bolted for the door at Keiran’s words but Damon rounded to where Ameia was holding up the sheet still. Though the blood that dyed Lady Gwen’s chest crimson the numbers 8-0-9-7 were carved into her breast.

“8097? What does that mean?” Damon asked. Keiran looked up at him and seemed to realize he hadn’t left yet.

“It means do as I say, Damon,” Keiran growled. “Daric, no Watch, don’t come back until I say it’s clear. Do not tell anyone else what happened up here.” He repeated. “Go. NOW!” Damon turned and nearly vaulted through the door. Keiran never exercised his royal privilege. He never used royal command. He never acknowledged his royal status. The fact he was pulling rank now meant there was something far more important going on.

Damon found Daric halfway up the second flight of stairs with three men from the Tythrenn Watch. One of the men wore the sergeant’s badge. 

“Damon?” Daric asked looking up at him.

“I’m sorry, but Prince Keiran has made the request we don’t involve the Watch,” Damon heard the words leave his mouth.

“If a Blessed was attacked in Port Tythrenn, it needs to be investigated,” the sergeant drew nearer. “We can’t have that sort of person loose on our streets.”

“Damon, what’s going on? You tell me to get the Watch and now Keiran’s calling them off?” Daric’s eyes narrowed.

“There’s something that changed how this is being taken care of, according to Keiran,” Damon couldn’t shake the image of those numbers from his mind or how they were carved into her flesh.

“What happened?” Daric lowered his voice so only Damon would be able to hear.

“What do the numbers 8-0-9-7 mean?” He asked just as quietly. Daric’s head went up, he swore and then he bolted for the top of the stairs. At the top he turned around.

“No Watch. Leave now. That’s a royal command,” he called down the stairs.

“Sergeant,” Damon heard the Watch Sergeant plead. “We can’t have someone attacking the Blessed in our city. We need to investigate.”

“I wish I could help you,” Damon took a step back towards the top of the landing. “I understand, but I can’t break a royal order.”

“I understand. If,” the man swallowed hard. “If something comes up. If you find something you think we need to know to catch this attacker, my brother Jasson Wood is in charge of the stables at this inn. He will tell you where to find me.”

“I will let you know if something comes up, Sergeant…” he drew out the word hoping for a name to be supplied.

“Sergeant Wood, Elden Wood,” he bowed his head to Damon and turned to lead his men away. Damon stared after him. There was something familiar about Sergeant Wood but he couldn’t place his finger on it and it did him no good to dwell on it. He turned and went back up the stairs to wait in the hallway outside of Lady Gwen’s room with her damaged trunk until one of the princes allowed him back inside.


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for the day. More to come.

Somewhere in the darkness, Gwen could hear voices talking around her. She knew the bed under her wasn’t meant for her. It was Gavril’s bed in Gavril’s room. She would have protested, but she had been in no state to argue when she had come out of the darkness to Ameia pouring her healing power into the wounds on her chest and shoulder. Keiran had said that Ameia’s healing would make her very tired and that she needed to rest. They would talk when she was rested and in a better state. Gavril had arrived then with a very solemn looking Sergeant Damon at his side. At Gavril’s insistence, she had been moved to the room next door and laid down on his bed. She had fallen back into the darkness when someone had produced the green comforter that she had brought from the palace with her from her trunk.

But now she was coming around again unsure of how long she had been unconscious. She could hear three male voices near her, but she recognized all three of them calming any fears she had. Gavril, Nic, and Sergeant Damon were the men chatting at her back.

“What are you reading anyway?” Nic asked.

“The scripture that is taught here in Port Tythrenn. I borrowed it from the Innkeeper’s wife,” Sergeant Damon’s voice was soft.

“You said on the journey here that it was false scripture that you’ve already read,” Nic pressed.

“It is, but I’m looking for a passage number or several passage numbers,” Sergeant Damon sighed.

“I’m familiar with the whole thing after these past two weeks at the temple with the High Priest. Perhaps I can shorten your search?” Gavril offered.

“I’m looking for the passage 8097, or some combination of those numbers that add up to why someone would think to mark her with those numbers,” Sergeant Damon sighed.

“You won’t find the answer in that book,” Gavril gave his own sigh. “It’s not scripture.”

“Then what is it? Daric and Keiran won’t tell me and I know it’s important to her safety.” Suddenly Sergeant Damon let out a growl. “There’s something going on here that I need to know! I can’t do my job properly unless I know what I need to protect her from.”

“It’s not scripture, that’s all I can tell you,” Gavril sighed. “I don’t know exactly what it means but I can take a guess from the small amounts of information that I do have. But even I don’t have all of the information you crave.”

Gwen opened her eyes and found herself facing the dark window away from where the three men were likely sitting around the table facing her. Sergeant Damon had a point. He couldn’t protect her from the real things that threatened her without knowing the whole story. But she had no bravery to tell him that she was a murderer and had destroyed the temple of the god he worshipped and studied with the reverence of a priest. She had an answer to that at least but she wanted to make sure someone she trusted went through her belongings. Someone that knew exactly what to look for.

“Edith,” Gwen breathed out the name of the person she needed and instantly she heard the voices behind her stop.

“Gwen? Are you awake?” Gavril stood and rounded to the side of the bed she was facing. He knelt down next to the bed and stroked her hair away from her face. “What can I do to make you feel better?” He asked.

“Go find Edith. Tell her I need her.” She saw Gavril’s eyes narrow slightly. “Please.” She knew Gavril had no particular dealings with Edith that would have made him dislike her. His unhappiness with her asking for Voleus’ Chosen was likely that he didn’t want Gwen asking for someone other than him to comfort her. “It’s important.” She tried again.

“I’ll go find her,” Nic’s voice was followed by footsteps and the door closing behind her.

“How are you feeling? Are you hungry?” Gavril returned to stroking her hair. “Do you hurt anywhere?”

Gwen blinked up at Gavril. The guard that had attacked her hadn’t done too much worse than what he had done to her when she had been at Faserlaeh. He had replaced his iron tipped whip for a dagger and he had drawn a little more blood this time but it was really not too different from the experience that she had had at Faserlaeh with all of the guards that liked to remove women from the lines for their own pleasure. 

The real difference this time had been that she had managed to snap out of the prisoner mentality before he had done more than tear off her clothes and carve her prisoner number into her chest. He hadn’t expected her to try and escape again so he had been surprised when she had wiggled out from under him while his attention was on getting his breeches down. He had caught her once and had punched her in the face to try and subdue her. She had escaped yet again when he had turned his attention back to the ties on his breeches. She found her escape under the bed where a man of that size couldn’t get to her. When he found he couldn’t reach her under the bed and couldn’t flip the bed over with its weight, she had heard him turn to destroying the things in her room to take out his anger. She had passed out from pain and from the punches to her face, but she was relatively undamaged, and he hadn’t managed to take advantage of her.

Part of her found Gavril’s worry for her laughable. She had plenty of worse things done to her in Faserlaeh and still had to pick herself up and go with little to no food, little to no rest, and absolutely no healings. She was better cared for at this point than she ever had been. But she appreciated Gavril’s worry for her as well. She knew he cared about her and this was his way of trying to help her through what was a horrible attack.

“Gwen?” Gavril cupped her face. “Talk to me, tell me what I can do to help.” She realized she must have been thinking for far too long for him to look so worried.

“This is enough,” she smiled at him and he smiled back. Any response he would have had was lost as the door opened. Gwen only heard one set of footsteps belonging to Nic, but she never expected to hear Edith walk across the floor. The woman was Blessed with silence and the ability be nothing more than a shadow at her own will.

“Who do you want me to kill?” Edith’s silver eyes appeared over Gavril’s shoulder.

“You and I both know you aren’t a killer,” Gwen moved to push herself up. She wanted to be sitting. Gavril watched for only a moment before he wrapped strong hands around her biceps and lifted her to sit up easily.

“I can make an exception for this one,” Edith let out a feral growl. “No one touches my sister.”

“I need your skills for something else,” Gwen sighed. “In my trunk I’ve hidden something only you know the importance of since you brought it to me in the first place, and I think only you can find where I’ve put it now. I want you to bring it to me.” She waited for Edith to connect the clues and nod. Gwen reached for the ribbon she wore around her neck and paused. It wasn’t there.

“I have your key,” Gavril produced the ribbon with the silver key on the end. “Ameia gave it to me after she went to get your blanket you brought with you.” He turned to hand the key to Edith. “Her trunk is next door. The room is locked and only the inn staff has keys right now to make sure it gets cleaned up, but I doubt you’ll have an issue with that,” he informed Edith. Gwen watched Edith grin and then left the room.

“What is she looking for Lady Gwen?” Sergeant Damon had closed the book he had been reading and had set it down. Now his eyes were on her. 

“Something important,” Gwen fidgeted with the green comforter. It was likely none of the men in the room would be so fond of her after they saw what she had done but there was little she could do to limit how far the information went inside of the room. She couldn’t ask Gavril or Nic to leave. It was likely they were sharing this room and she could hardly ask them to leave their own room. And Gavril deserved to know. It would make him hate her, but he deserved to know who he was calling his sister.

“You didn’t have a hard time finding Edith, I see,” Gavril glanced up at Nic.

“She was waiting by the stairs,” Nic shrugged. “Gwen is the only Blessed I’ve heard her claim as family. I’m sure she wanted information too.”

“Of course, I did,” Edith’s voice made Nic and Gavril jump. Gwen raised an eyebrow at Sergeant Damon when he dared to look her direction.

“What sort of guard would I be if I startled whenever a thief appeared?” He asked raising an eyebrow back.

“Pfft, you’re lucky I’m letting you even know I’m here,” Edith snorted. Gwen fought back her own smile. From Edith’s stories of stalking Daric and his stoic guard, he was lucky to even be catching a glimpse of her. Edith came forward with the scroll in her hands. “Very well hidden, by the way. It nearly took me twenty seconds to find it.”

“I shall have to see if I can make it thirty next time,” Gwen grinned. “Give it to him,” she nodded to Sergeant Damon. Edith’s eyes narrowed on Gwen’s. “It’s my choice.” Edith straightened and turned to hand the scroll to Sergeant Damon, who rose to take it.

“What’s this?” He asked without opening the scroll.

“Your answers,” Gwen said quietly. “All of them.” 

Sergeant Damon stared at her for a moment and then unrolled the scroll. She watched his eyes sweep over the words with the efficiency she expected of him. When his eyes reached the bottom he rolled up the scroll and looked up at her. His silvery green eyes were wide. They swept over her face and then down to the bracelets on her wrists. His mouth opened and she expected him to say something, but he closed it again. He handed the scroll back to Edith and then left the room without a word.

“What is that scroll, Gwen?” Gavril asked quietly.

“My prison records.” Gwen hadn’t ever outright told Gavril she had been a prisoner, but she knew he had seen the scars on her wrists and her back. He had never asked questions about them, so she assumed he had formed his own opinions. “Would you like to see them for your answers as well? You have the right as my brother.”

“It’s not my right as your brother. It’s your right to decide what you want to tell and to who. I’ll wait for you to tell me anything you want me to know,” Gavril sat down on the edge of the bed. “No matter what you tell me, you will always be my sister.” He gave her his sunny smile. 

She doubted he’d mean it if he knew the truth. It would hurt less if he knew now when Sergeant Damon already hated her enough to remove himself from her presence. It was best to destroy all illusions of friendship that were being built before they got too far and she got too much more attached.

“I burned down the Temple of Solreth,” Gwen blurted out before she lost the courage.

“I know,” Gavril turned to lift his legs up onto the bed so he was lying next to her.

“You know?” Gwen demanded.

“I’ve known since I saw you produce Godsfyre,” Gavril shrugged and inched an arm around her shoulders to pull her against him. “The priests here are zealous in their own beliefs. In the past two weeks I’ve discovered that they don’t even believe when I say things about Solreth unless it also comes from their High Priest. And that High Priest is a piece of work. He likes the power he has far too much. I can’t imagine how hard you worked to control your power around him.”

“I think I will walk Edith back to Paxton’s room,” Nic interrupted. “Then I’ll check on Damon and see if he’s alright.”

“We’ll be here,” Gavril waved them off. “Did I ever tell you about my first trip to Port Tythrenn? Before I was Blessed my father thought that perhaps I wasn’t the type of person to be a farmer for all of my days, so he brought me here to see about getting me into the Watch.” Gavril worked through his story talking about how overwhelmed he was by all the different kinds of people in the city and the different wares they had to sell. Gwen never heard the end of Gavril’s story. Her eyes grew heavy as he spoke, and she settled against his shoulder to listen until she could remain awake no longer.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

Damon

_Name: Gwendolyn Wood_

_Guilty in Port Tythrenn of burning down the Temple of Solreth resulting in the deaths of eleven priests. At the time of sentencing, thirty-seven injuries related to the burning of the temple were also reported._

_Prisoner Number: 8097_

_Cell Number: 17 Bed A_

_Description upon arrival: 14 year old female, pale skin, blue-gray eyes, dark brown hair, height 5’5”, thin, no birthmarks._

_Family to be notified at time of death: Elden Wood, Port Tythrenn Watch, Sergeant._

_Whipped as an example on the following dates:_

Damon stormed down the hall. That scroll, that one little scroll, held almost every answer he was looking for. Almost every answer.

Lady Gwen had burned down the Temple of Solreth, but he knew her better than to believe it was out of malice. She wasn’t a killer. She had put herself in harm’s way to try and protect Gavril when her power had turned into a terrible Godsfyre filled cyclone. What had she said to Gavril about controlling her power? She had only ever been able to work on containing it. When it leaked out the consequences had been terrible. He had assumed that she had meant she had been hurt by the Priests of Solreth for her power leaking out, and perhaps she had meant that too. But perhaps she had also meant the death of eleven men and the burns that were still visible on thirty-seven other priests still dedicated to the Temple of Solreth.

Daric and Keiran were of course in on the secrets of her crime and her imprisonment. There had to have been a Royal Pardon given for her to have made it to Oleryn. They had done well keeping the exact details of her past silent, but he had been dense to not guess it. 

There had been clues, starting with her bracelets that she wore even to bed. Her inability to sleep with a guard staring in at her. Her easy acceptance of the rules he had pushed on her when he had first taken her on. Her skeletal figure. Gods, she must have been starved for… well. The description had said she had been fourteen when she had arrived. How old was she now? Eighteen? Nineteen? She had been starved for four years. And Ameia, when she had healed her after the cyclone incident, she had wept and had made a clear comment that something had been wrong with where Lady Gwen had been or rather what had been done to her there.

Faserlaeh. The name of the island was enough to bring up the information that made him want to run from the room. He had met the men that had come to work at the palace from Faserlaeh. Men from Faserlaeh that worked in the Royal Guard fell into two categories. The first group of men were those that had hated Faserlaeh and had escaped as soon as they had finished their first contract. Those were the men that had come out with stories of how the prisoners were treated. Public whippings and beatings at least weekly for the amusement of the guards and to terrorize the prisoners. Starvation. Sleep deprivation. Hard labor for the men, tedious labor for the women. Those who fell or let their minds wander during the long workdays were beaten. These were the methods that were used to break the wills of the mages that were charged with treason and mass murder.

But there were other horror stories that Damon cringed at. The guards that hated Faserlaeh had only ever mentioned particular stories when they had been drunk. Guards being able to withdraw prisoners, male or female, from their work lines to fulfill the desires of sick men. Stories of guards taunting the prisoners until they made their pick. One particular guard had mentioned he had been forced to watch as his partner had flirted with a young woman until she had cringed and then he had raped her so brutally that she had chosen to die the next morning to a guard’s baton rather than leave her cell.

Lady Gwen had said enough for him to know she had been hurt by a man in that sense. She had said enough when she had said she wouldn’t wear a skirt because it was far too easy for someone to attack her that way. But she had assured them it wasn’t at the palace and then had changed the subject. He had let her change the damned subject rather than ask who had hurt her. He regretted that now. If he had just pushed a little perhaps she would have given him the clues he needed to have stopped this attack on her.

The second type of guard that came from Faserlaeh was the type of man that had enjoyed the work so much that they had stayed until they had reached the maximum number of years that could be served at Faserlaeh at a time. It was supposedly for their own health that they could only serve a maximum of three years at a time. With the poor food quality, the lack of color, and the isolation on the island it was thought three years was the maximum anyone could maintain sanity. A two-year break was required of anyone wishing to reapply for a position at Faserlaeh. Those were the monsters that enjoyed beating prisoners, enjoyed raping them, enjoyed watching them die.

Those men had only applied to the Royal Guard to either pass time until they could reapply or because they had families or other obligations outside of Faserlaeh that kept them from being able to reapply. Damon had met several of those men and had decided those were the kinds of men he would never allow to be promoted through the ranks. He had also decided that they would also be under someone else’s watch in order to keep them in control.

Damon stopped outside of a door and glared at it. The door was his own, but also the room he was supposed to be sharing with Sergeant Aloys, Sergeant Nic, and Sergeant Ambrose. It was the middle of the night but there was no way he was going to let this rest right now. He unlocked the door and threw it open. Aloys nearly fell out of his bed as the door slammed into the wall but Damon had no room to feel bad for him at the moment. He closed the distance to where Ambrose was stirring in bed and seized the front of his nightshirt to drag him into a sitting position.

“Who did you send to check on Lady Gwen in your stead this afternoon? Who did you pass your duty off on this time?” He growled in Ambrose’s face.

“Not everyone needs to oversee their charge as closely as you do,” Ambrose growled. “Lady Gwen informed my man she didn’t even want a guard to be in her room here at the inn. She didn’t want anyone checking in on her.”

“Who did you send?” Damon shook Ambrose with each word.

“Hearst, dammit, I sent Hearst,” Ambrose snapped. “He came back and said Lady Gwen was fine and had requested no guards in her room and had asked to be left alone for the night.”

Damon released Ambrose. He would deal with the man’s incompetence in the morning. There were more pressing matters to attend to. Of all the answers Damon had sought on the scroll Lady Gwen had let him read, there had been one answer he hadn’t expected to find. At the bottom of the scroll had been a list of names with numbers next to them. He didn’t dare think on what those numbers could mean but he had recognized one name on that list immediately: Hearst Fletcher. He recognized the name because he had stared at the ten names of the men replacing him and his men as Lady Gwen’s guards for two days after Daric had let her know which squad would guard her. If he had looked further, past the names of the men into their applications as he had wanted to, he would have known much sooner that a Faserlaeh man was on Ambrose’s squad.

It made sense, now, why Lady Gwen’s prisoner number had appeared. After hearing some of the stories from Faserlaeh, he wasn’t surprised it was carved into her skin. He was appalled, but not surprised. He wasn’t surprised that Lady Gwen had been found unclothed. Had he raped her? Ameia hadn’t said, but Damon would find out and add it to the charges if he had.

Daric’s door was locked when Damon approached and he expected the Prince to be sleeping, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t letting this go until morning. He let himself in with the key he had as Daric’s guard and was surprised to see the room lit comfortably with Keiran and Daric sitting at a table talking.

“I thought you were sitting with Lady Gwen?” Daric asked over his shoulder.

“Faserlaeh? She was in Faserlaeh and you didn’t think to tell me! What in Solreth’s name is wrong with you?” Damon growled.

“How did you find that out?” Daric turned to face him now, but he kept his voice as calm as ever. How Damon hated when Daric pretended that anger wasn’t worth acknowledging.

“She showed me her prison records. How did you expect me to properly protect her when I didn’t know that?” Damon snapped.

“You were doing a fine enough job without knowing,” Daric sighed. “Didn’t Father order her records destroyed?” Daric turned to Keiran.

“He did. I wonder how she managed to have a copy,” Keiran stood. “Is she awake?”

“She is, or was. Damn you Daric,” Damon turned back to the man he wanted to yell at. He couldn’t be pushed off track by discussing her current condition or he’d lose time. “You assigned her a squad full of men that neglected to pay her any mind, and one man that didn’t. You assigned her one of her former torturers from Faserlaeh. His name is listed at the bottom of her records. And he’s the one that Ambrose sent to check on her when they arrived. And the same man that told Ambrose and the rest of her guard that she didn’t want to be checked on or have guards in her room.”

“I want him woken and questioned now with Paxton present. Bring him down to the common room, I’ll meet you there,” Keiran stood. “Daric, I thought you were making sure no one that served as a prison guard was on her care.” Damon turned and left before he heard the rest of the conversation. He needed to wake Paxton, he needed to wake and restrain Hearst. He needed some of his men awake to restrain Hearst. He changed direction. He needed his men first. He could trust them.

“Damon, what’s going on? You ran out of Gavril’s room as if she had made a cyclone of Godsfyre again,” Nic had caught up to him. “She’s not a criminal. You can look at her and know that.”

“The man that attacked her, I think it was one of her own guards. I think it was the man that Ambrose sent to check on her this afternoon,” Damon kept walking and Nic fell in line with him.

“Are you sure?” Nic’s voice held a tone that told Damon what he was already thinking. He had to be sure before he made the accusation. Even a fellow Royal Guard faced consequences of falsely accusing another Royal Guard of a crime like this. It wasn’t as if he would find himself facing charges, but he would lose the respect of his men. It would be almost impossible to earn it back too. Most who falsely accused other Guard members left after due to the consequences.

“His name was on her records. I don’t know what he did to get on her records, but do you honestly believe it would be for anything beneficial to her?” Damon turned to look at Nic.

“How can I help?” Nic stopped in front of the stairs. The fact he wasn’t asking for further proof made Damon even more sure that he was in the right. 

“Go wake Ambrose and Paxton and bring them to the common room. Don’t tell Ambrose what’s going on yet. I don’t want him alerting his man somehow.” Damon waited for Nic to nod and turn to follow orders before he went down one floor to where his own men slept. He wanted them at his back if he was going to confront a monster that thought carving numbers into a woman’s chest was something worth his time.

He didn’t have to explain much as he went knocking on doors to wake his men. They had all been trained to wake at a moment’s notice, ready to face anything. Guarding the Crowned Prince meant that they needed to be ready to face an attacker at any time of day or night. While the monarchy was well liked and stable at the moment, it hadn’t always been nor would it always be in the future. When his men were at least armed with their swords, he walked with them down the hall to the rooms occupied by Ambrose’s men.

“What’s going on?” Julian whispered at his side while Damon worked on deciding which room to try first.

“I need Hearst Fletcher,” Damon replied.

“He’s in this room,” another man pointed to one of the doors. Damon went to it and knocked, counting the seconds it took for it to open. His own men were trained to be awake and at the door at that knock in ten seconds or less. At thirty seconds, Damon knocked again, much louder. The door opened showing one blurry eyed man blinking up at him.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” The man slurred either tired or drunk. By the smell coming from the room, Damon assumed drunk.

“Is Hearst in here?” Damon demanded.

“Yeah but good luck wakin’ ‘im,” the man stepped out of the doorframe for Damon to enter. In the scant light coming through the window he could make out empty tankards on the table, cards spilled over onto the floor, and three occupied beds. Damon was saved from looking for the right bed when the man that had answered the door wandered over to the last bed where a large, heavily muscled man was snoring. “Fletch! Gerrup! Sergeant Pain-in-the-Arse wants ye’!”

Damon didn’t even blink twice at the name given for him. It showed that these men lacked proper respect and that was likely learned from their own sergeant. It also showed that Damon was doing his job. If he was a pain in their arses now, he was going to be a lot worse soon. He planned to make sure Sergeant Ambrose and his men were split into new squads under stricter Sergeants. Ambrose would face his own punishments for allowing his neglect to cause harm to a charge, especially a charge as high profile as a Blessed.

The big man on the bed simply rolled over a swatted at the smaller man as if he were a fly. Damon stepped in. It was clear that Hearst was bigger than he was, but Damon had years of training and an ability to know exactly where and when to hit. He was still the only man at court to best Gavril at anything weapons related. Damon walked around the other side of the bed and upended the mattress with a hard flick sending Hearst rolling to the floor. The giant of a man let out a roar as he jumped to his feet.

“Grab him,” Damon ordered his men. “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t fight, Hearst Fletcher,” he turned to Hearst and watched him glare back with something he was sure was meant for intimidation. But Damon wasn’t intimidated nor were his men. Three of them came forward to grab arms and move behind him. “We’re headed to the common room with him,” Damon explained to his men.

In the common room Keiran was already waiting with Daric, Paxton, Nic, Aloys, and Ambrose. Though Damon hadn’t requested Aloys he didn’t blame him for wanting to know what was going on. He had been woken up twice regarding this and now all his roommates were involved. Damon would have followed too in his case. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” Hearst growled when he was let go. “I have a right to know what is going on!”

“Quite right,” Ambrose glared at Damon. “What imaginary thing did you come up with this time that we are failing to do properly?”

“Damon didn’t request this, I did,” Keiran stepped forward. “As I’m sure you are aware, Lord Paxton here is Orvanus’ Chosen. Part of the Blessing he holds is to see what a man tries to hide. In this case, he will see what truths are being hidden while I ask my questions.” Ambrose stepped back but frowned. To argue with one of the princes was something that would likely cost him his job in this case. “Hearst Fletcher, did you go and check on Lady Gwen when you were ordered by Sergeant Ambrose this afternoon?” Keiran asked.

“I went and checked in on the chit like I was ordered, I,” Hearst stopped talking when Keiran held up a hand.

“Was she well when you found her?” Keiran asked. Damon smiled internally. If he had checked on Lady Gwen and she hadn’t been fine, it would have been neglect on a different level.

“There was nothing to cause concern when I checked on her, your Highness. I was just doing as I was told. She told me she was fine and didn’t want to be checked on again or have guards in her room.” Hearst stopped again when Paxton shook his head.

“He’s lying there. Lady Gwen said none of that,” Paxton turned his cold stare on Hearst and even Damon felt himself wanting to cringe away. “Lady Gwen was indeed fine when he first entered her room. But he didn’t leave her fine.”

“Yes, the heart of the matter, did you attack Lady Gwen by stabbing her through the shoulder, carving up her chest, and punching her in the face?” Keiran asked.

Damon heard a low growl come from several of his men. He hadn’t told them of what had happened to Lady Gwen. Most of the inn had no idea that Lady Gwen had been hurt. If he had told them what Hearst was being accused of, it was unlikely Hearst would have made it to the common room in any state to be questioned.

“Did that Bitch say I attacked her?” Hearst snapped. Damon’s hand went out in time to stop one of his men from lunging at Hearst.

“I’m going to save you time, Keiran,” Paxton sighed. “He did it. He intended to do worse. He’s done terrible things to her before. I’ll write a statement for the Watch, but first, I think I’m going to be ill.”


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only chapter I'm putting up today. Apologies.

Gwen woke alone in the bed though she was aware Gavril had spent the entire rest of the night with her. The green comforter was tucked around her as was the blanket on the bed, and several pillows. She pushed them away with a smile. It was clear that Gavril was attempting to take care of her, but it was unnecessary, and she planned to tell him that. 

On the table Damon, Nic, and Gavril had been sitting by the night before was the scroll that Gwen had had Edith retrieve still neatly rolled up. Next to it was a pile of clothes, her bottle of perfume, and the box from her trunk that contained her beauty supplies. There was no one else in the room but she knew she hadn’t been alone for long. It was still fairly early in the morning.

Gwen stripped off the overly large shirt someone had put on her. She was certain that the shirt belonged to Gavril based on the size, but she hoped that Ameia had been the one to dress her. When Gwen looked down at her body, she expected to see a new set of scars across her chest marking her personal impersonal prison number on her permanently, but she saw nothing by way of new scars. Ameia had erased any marks from this particular attack. The other scars across her chest and stomach remained. Not even Eiannae’s Chosen could erase the marks Faserlaeh had left on her.

With a sigh, she pulled on the clothes that someone had taken the time to pick out for her. When she was dressed, she braided her hair back and coiled it into a tight knot, and then used her perfume to envelop herself in the warm ghostly scent of cinnamon and orange peel. When she felt ready, she opened the door to the hallway. The absence of people in the hallway was enough to make her start to feel odd. It was odd to be in a bedroom alone. It was odd to open the door and find herself alone in the hall without guards around at all. After the attack she expected someone to be watching for her.

But perhaps she had burned that bridge. Sergeant Damon was aware of her past now. He probably no longer felt the need to protect her and Sergeant Ambrose obviously didn’t feel the need to pay her any mind. This would be the new normal in Port Tythrenn. She would be absolutely alone.

Gwen wandered down the stairs towards the common room. She knew that inns usually served meals in the common rooms during set times so she hoped breakfast would be there. Or at least someone that could let her into her room so she could grab her belt purse to pay for breakfast at an eating house. 

The common room was surprisingly empty. Gwen glanced around wondering if it was much later than she thought. But then the sun was barely up. It was still early enough for people to be around, wasn’t it? The tables and chairs were empty of Royal Guards or other Blessed.

“Are you looking for breakfast, My Lady?” Gwen turned to see Lucile standing in a door that appeared to lead to the kitchens.

“I was. Is it normally this empty at this time?” She nodded to the room.

“No, My Lady. It was a late night for their Highnesses and many of the guards here. Most of them didn’t go to bed until an hour or two before dawn.” Lucile stepped more fully out of the doorway. “If you have a seat, I can bring out some breakfast for you.” She nodded to the tables and chairs.

Gwen went to sit at one of the tables that faced out the back of the inn where windows showed the gardens and the stables. Her mind was on what might have possibly kept everyone up so long. But she knew it likely had something to do with her. Perhaps Sergeant Damon had decided that he refused to have her guarded by any men from the Royal Guard. Perhaps Daric couldn’t get him to sway. 

She was a little surprised that no one, beside Edith, had asked who had hurt her so the day before when she had been awake during the night. Not even Gavril had ventured to ask. Perhaps it didn’t matter. Or perhaps they knew it was one of their own and they ranked higher than a peasant girl with a Blessing no one wanted. 

Outside of the window she saw someone step out of the stables and stretch. Her eyes noted his dark chestnut colored hair just before someone else stepped into her view. The second man was dressed in the blue and brown uniform of the Tythrenn Watch and had the build of someone that saw a practice court at least once a day. His hair was also the same dark chestnut color of the man from the stables. Then both men turned to enter the inn. Though the glass distorted their features, Gwen had a hunch she knew exactly who was coming inside. She only had enough time switch chairs so she faced completely away from the doors as her brothers Elden and Jasson entered the common room.

“Luce!” Jasson called.

“Yeah?” Lucile came back to the kitchen door.

“We’re going to have breakfast in here today since it’s deserted and all.” To Gwen’s horror they sat at a table in the same area as her. She would be trapped at her table until they decided to leave.

“So, we need to talk?” Elden asked. “Did someone from the Royal Guard tell you something of importance on the Blessed that was attacked?”

“Nah, it’s not about a Blessed being attacked, but it is about the Blessed. El, there are six Blessed. Six. The King has only made big dramatic announcements about five Blessed, but there are _six_ here!” Jasson’s voice waivered. Gwen ducked her head. She could take a guess at where this conversation might go.

“And what, exactly, are you implying?” Elden’s voice was low.

“I’m thinking she found some way out.” She could see their reflections in the glass, and she could see Jasson leaning across the table as his voice grew quieter. “I’m thinking that she’s here. I’m thinking there’s a damned good possibility that she’s the sixth Blessed that no one is talking about. Come on, El, no one knows a sixth Blessed, but we do!”

They did know another Blessed. Elden had picked her up off the floor of Variel’s Temple. Elden had abandoned her at the Temple of Solreth. Elden had ignored her for four years. Jasson had ignored her for four years. He had visited the Temple of Solreth at least twice a month and had ignored her when he had visited. Her sisters had ignored her too when they had come. And then Elden had stopped ignoring her and had sent her to Faserlaeh. But they had all known her whether they ignored her or not. 

“She’s long dead, Jase,” Elden sighed, not bothering to keep his voice down to a whisper. “No one survives more than a year. Not a fourteen-year-old girl, not anyone, Blessed by a god or no.”

“But what if! What if she did? You never got confirmation of her death,” Jasson pressed.

“If…,” she heard Elden draw a long halting breath, “if by the very long and impossible shot she is alive and here, the consequences would be unimaginable.” Elden’s voice held the same edge it had the day she had been Blessed. She knew now it marked him as afraid. He was afraid of what might happen if she lived.

“My Lady,” Gwen jumped. She had been so focused on the conversation behind her she hadn’t seen or heard Lucile approaching. “Easy there, My Lady. I suppose you have a right to be jumpy after what that man did to you yesterday. I just thought I’d bring you something to drink while you waited for your breakfast.”

“This is the Blessed that was attacked?” Elden’s voice made her cringe. She heard his chair scrape across the floor as he stood and his footsteps approach. She wanted to be almost anywhere but here when he realized who was sitting in the room with him. “My Lady, I’m a Sergeant in the Tythrenn Watch for this district. I’d like to speak with you about the attack. I want to make sure your attacker is caught.”

“Sergeant Elden, good morning. Yes, this is the Blessed that was attacked but there’s no need to make her relive such an event. The man that attacked her was caught, interrogated, shackled, and put on a ship back to Oleryn to face the King’s Justice before dawn.” Gwen felt her face flush when she heard Sergeant Damon’s voice. He was rescuing her once again, but she doubted he knew that he was doing it. “How are you feeling? I know Gavril stayed the night with you. Nic said you slept through him and Gavril leaving this morning,” the chair she had occupied first was pulled out and he sat down. She stared at the table in front of her, her heart racing. Elden and Jasson had not resumed speaking, she wasn’t even sure he had gone back to his table. “You are alright, aren’t you?” Sergeant Damon sounded concerned.

Gwen glanced his direction and almost forgot the rest of her fear. Sergeant Damon was not wearing the purple tunic with the royal insignia emblazoned across the chest. He was not wearing any part of his uniform. He was dressed very plainly in a white cotton shirt and dark blue breeches. The only thing he retained was his sword belt and sword.

“I thought all of the Royal Guard practically slept in their uniforms,” Gwen managed to say in her surprise.

“Well, it would help to sleep in it some days,” Sergeant Damon smiled at her. “Ah, Lucile, perhaps you would be a dear and serve us breakfast in Prince Daric’s room? My Lady included here as well. Thank you.” Gwen didn’t see or hear Lucile respond but it seems she had done something to confirm because Sergeant Damon turned his attention back to her. “It seems his Highness has some explaining to do. I’d love to hear his reasoning as well, if that’s alright with you. Might I have your permission to attend this meeting?”

“You’re Daric’s Sergeant, why aren’t you asking his permission?” Despite the fact Elden hadn’t sat back down and both of her brothers still appeared to be listening, Gwen felt her mouth getting the better of her. Things weren’t adding up. Sergeant Damon never took off his uniform except when he was in the practice courts, and this certainly wasn’t practice attire. He had no reason to ask her permission to be a part of this meeting. And he certainly had no reason to be speaking to her after last night.

“There’s been a slight change of plans. Ambrose was sent back with his man, the one that attacked you. He’ll face Captain Ebren and King Alaric for his neglect of you that led to this attack. The rest of his men have been sent back as well as they should have known better. That, My Lady, means you are without a guard for the time being, which, by default, makes you my responsibility. Are you following?” Sergeant Damon leaned forward on the table to look into her face. She hadn’t realized but she was still keeping her head down. She managed to nod that she understood. “There was a long meeting about it sometime before dawn this morning. The main concern was keeping you from feeling displaced. We, the Royal Guard and their Highnesses, would prefer to allow you to learn the type of consistent protection you are due. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Daric would like to speak to you and he’s probably had enough time to primp despite his lack of beauty sleep,” Sergeant Damon stood and offered his arm.

It occurred to Gwen that Sergeant Damon had avoided using her name nor had he named her Blessing. It occurred to her that he had addressed Elden by name. It had also occurred to her that Elden’s name was listed as family to be notified upon her death on the scroll Sergeant Damon had read the night before. Perhaps he understood her fear of the two men behind them catching on to who she was. She could, if anything, take a chance on him reading some subtle signals. She looked up to meet his eyes and then gave a half nod to her brothers. Sergeant Damon only nodded to his arm again. 

She supposed she didn’t have much of a choice and rose to take his arm. Then suddenly she was on the other side of Sergeant Damon’s body from her brothers, blocked from sight by his thick biceps and muscled chest angled to shield her. She had never appreciated a man for his build as much as she did at this moment.

“Thank you for your concern for my charge, Sergeant Elden,” Sergeant Damon gave a slight bow of his head. “Please, resume your breakfast with your brother.”

He pulled her out of the common room, up the stairs to the third floor and then down the opposite side of the hall. Without warning he stopped and opened a door. She expected to see a room like hers on the other side with Daric sitting at a table, but it was a simple room with four beds all neatly made and three identical trunks sitting in front of three of the beds.

“Before we talk to Daric,” Sergeant Damon closed the door. “You and I need to discuss some things first. You are to never keep secrets like that from me again. I cannot do my job properly if you do not tell me important information like that. If you had told me, you wouldn’t have even met Ambrose or Hearst.” 

He stepped over to her and grabbed for her hands, making quick work of the clasps on her bracelets. His fingers traced over the thick white scars for a fraction of a second before he let her hands go. 

“It was made clear I wasn’t supposed to speak about it,” Gwen tried.

“But you decided to tell me last night. Why?”

“Because you were right. You couldn’t do your job properly if you didn’t know everything. I had put too much blind trust in Daric after he had said he put his own guards on my protection because none of you had been prison guards. I thought he would pay as close attention again.” Gwen stared down at the floor rather than at Sergeant Damon.

“Daric told you he assigned us to you because none of my men served as prison guards?” He lifted her chin to make her look at him. “He lied or he doesn’t know his guards as well as he thinks he does. Aiden served for six months as a guard in the dungeons at the palace when he first came to Oleryn while he waited for his application to the Royal Guard to be accepted. Julian worked as a cell guard down in Oleryn for the Watch there while he waited for his application to be accepted.”

Gwen looked up at Sergeant Damon with a frown. Julian and Aiden were two of the kindest men on his squad. They were the ones she trusted the most outside of Sergeant Damon. But neither of them had served time at Faserlaeh and neither of them seemed to have worked that long guarding prisoners. She wasn’t angry that she hadn’t known either of them had served as prison guards, but she was starting to feel anger towards the Crowned Prince.

“Perhaps Daric didn’t know,” Sergeant Damon sighed. “Elden Wood,” he started after a long moment. “He was listed as your family. A cousin?”

Gwen watched him for a long moment. She had hoped she wouldn’t have to say anything about Elden or Jasson in the common room. She had hoped he would have just drawn his own conclusions. She had hoped she wouldn’t have to tell him anything after he had read that scroll. Part of her wanted to brush off the question but he had just told her that she couldn’t keep those kinds of secrets from him anymore, and that made sense.

“He was my brother,” she mumbled out.

“Your brother,” Sergeant Damon repeated. “But you’ve been adamant that you don’t have family. I thought perhaps you were an orphan, or something had happened to them.”

“I don’t have a family. As far as they are concerned, I’m dead,” Gwen hugged herself feeling uncomfortable with the turn this conversation had taken.

“You never wrote them to tell them you were pardoned? That you are no longer in Faserlaeh?” He sounded surprised. “Clearly he was concerned enough to have his name put down for notification of your death. Only people that care to have death rites done do such things. Why wouldn’t you want to ease their minds?”

“Because it wouldn’t ease their minds. My death eases their minds. From the moment I was Blessed I was no longer part of the family. The only reason his damned name is listed on my records isn’t because of death rites, it’s because he’s the one that sent me to Faserlaeh in the first place.” Gwen snapped. “They aren’t my family and if they do find out I survived, that Variel’s Chosen is still at large…” she couldn’t finish the sentence. Elden had just said the consequences of her living through such torture would be unimaginable. Suddenly she was very glad she hadn’t written to him when she found out he wanted to be notified of her death. She was glad she hadn’t had anyone else write to him to warn him. Her entire family would be happier if she just stayed dead in their minds.

Strong arms enclosed around her and she jumped until she realized that she wasn’t being attacked. The reality was nearly as terrifying. Sergeant Damon was hugging her. He had his arms around her and was holding her against his body. Then just as suddenly as he had pulled her against him, he let her go, his cheeks faintly colored with a pink tinge.

“Let’s go find Daric, shall we.” He cleared his throat. He handed her back her bracelets and waited until they were secured before he opened the door to the hallway again.

Down at the very end of the hall, on the complete opposite corner from her room, Sergeant Damon stopped to knock on a door carved with Solreth’s Sun. They waited nearly a minute before Sergeant Damon removed a key from his pocket and unlocked the door.

“Give me a moment to make sure he’s decent,” he mumbled before he pushed open the door only enough for him to slip inside alone and closed it behind him. Gwen waited in the hall for only ten seconds before the door opened again and Sergeant Damon beckoned her inside.

“Lady Gwen!” Daric sat at his table looking tired but dressed for the day with a cup of tea. “It’s good to see you appearing so well.” Gwen fought the urge to roll her eyes. Had he decided he didn’t want to open the door himself? He clearly had been sitting there long enough to have half a cup of tea gone. What sort of man needed a guard or a servant to answer his door? Apparently, the same sort of man that lied about having checked into his guards’ backgrounds to make her feel safer. Apparently, the sort of man that ignored her worries at all levels. Had he even done any sort of investigating to make sure she’d be safe in Port Tythrenn from the people? But Sergeant Damon was there, and she trusted he had done some checking into her safety as Variel’s Chosen.

“Not in a talkative mood?” Daric asked as she sat down in the chair Sergeant Damon pulled out for her. 

She watched him as she had watched his father when she had first arrived at the palace. She hadn’t paid much mind to King Alaric since then, but now the resemblance between father and son wasn’t lost on her. And now she was reminded that he had believed the treatment of her on the ship to Oleryn had been some sort of kindness. She didn’t trust him, and she didn’t want to hear anything he felt the need to say to her.

Daric glanced up at Sergeant Damon and then back down at her. She might have believed he was nervous except Daric wasn’t the type of man to ever experience nerves.

“I can go get Keiran if you would like him here, Lady Gwen,” Sergeant Damon touched her shoulder to get her to look up at him. His silvery green eyes showed concern that almost mirrored the same concern he had shown last night before she had given him the scroll.

“I don’t believe I need Keiran here to cover for him yet again,” Gwen managed to say. She saw Daric grimace and look away, but Sergeant Damon gave her shoulder a slight squeeze before he let it go.

“Do you want me to stay? Or would you prefer I not be involved in this meeting?” He asked.

“You can stay. Like you said, no more secrets,” she glanced up at him.

“Right, no more secrets,” Sergeant Damon pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. “I wanted you to know that your scroll held the answer of who attacked you. You’ll want to thank Paxton for standing in place of a mage with truth spells. He saved us some time and kept us from having to involve the Watch.”

The door opened and immediately Sergeant Damon was on his feet with his hand on the hilt of his sword. The intruder was only Lucile with a tray laden with plates of food and a tea kettle with cups. She set down the tray on the table with a curtsey to Daric before she scuttled from the room.

“Gwen, I need to apologize to you,” Daric sighed. “I feel I may have neglected my duties to you.”

Gwen fought back the power that rose in her chest with her anger. For the past few weeks it had been almost as if it hadn’t existed with how calm things had been. During the attack it had resurfaced and had pressed against her barriers, but she had kept it locked in. Part of her was sure she would burn the entire inn to the ground if she had defended herself with her power. Another part of her thought that perhaps she had still suffered from her time as a prisoner, believing that revealing she still had her power would mark her for death. But as far as Daric was concerned, he may have simply neglected his duties to her. She had paid in blood for his neglect. 

“So,” he cleared his throat. “You’ll be riding on the Royal Charter ship with me on the way back to Oleryn at the end of this. Keiran has already agreed to take your place on the other ship in order to allow room for you. You’ll find the Royal Charter ships have far better rooms than the other ships you’ve been on.” He sipped at his tea and cleared his throat again. She was beginning to guess it was out of nerves more than anything else. “I’m also having your room here at the inn changed to the room next to mine. It’s bigger than your current room and I’ll be able to keep a closer eye on you. As for your protection, I’d like you to join me on my outings and in my duties so that Damon here can keep an eye on you.”

Gwen stared at him feeling the anger growing in her chest alongside her power. This was him trying to apologize? This was what he had decided was going to happen? She didn’t care to ride on the Royal Charter. She liked the Royal Navy ship she had been on. And she certainly didn’t need a bigger room. She liked that she was next to Gavril. She felt safer next to Gavril than she was sure she ever would next to the Prince. If she was correct in thinking the room Sergeant Damon had pulled her into earlier was his room, then she was also slightly closer to Sergeant Damon in her current room. But perhaps too much damage had been done to the room she was in. Perhaps it wouldn’t be repaired soon enough. She couldn’t exactly impose on Gavril even more.

But even beyond all of that, she was angry that he expected her to accompany him during his outings and duties. She wouldn’t be able to dictate her own schedule at all. She would be bound to him and his whims. Not that she had many plans for Port Tythrenn, but she had a few places she eventually wanted to poke around at. Alchemists she wanted to look into and perhaps the Temple of Variel if she could slip away enough. She wouldn’t be able to with Daric and however many men had to follow him around even if he did break away from whatever he wanted to do to allow her some freedom.

Gwen glanced at Sergeant Damon. He had said that he didn’t want her displaced. He had said that he wanted her to become accustomed to the consistent protection that she was due. Was this what he meant? But no, she could see even in her own anger that his jaw had become set into the tight line that marked him as angry or frustrated. Something Daric had said had rubbed him wrong.

“Naturally, you’ll be concerned that you won’t be able to do the shopping that you had in mind,” Daric started after a long moment. Of course, he thought she was considering how she wouldn’t be able to shop. Port Tythrenn’s markets were known in many countries as some of the best and she was a woman she naturally she wanted to shop. “I assure you that I can certainly find a small amount of time to allow you to visit the shops you’d like.”

“Is this the consistent level of protection I am due, Sergeant?” Gwen was too angry to speak to Daric, so she turned to look at Sergeant Damon. She couldn’t quite keep the bite from her voice. “Perhaps I misheard you when you said the concern was that I would feel displaced.” If she was wrong about his frustration with Daric, she’d find out now. If she was right, she wanted to give him the opening to speak if he was willing.

“Your Highness, this is not what we discussed about Lady Gwen,” Sergeant Damon sighed. “Daric, we talked about this. The safest route for Lady Gwen is that we don’t announce her presence with uniformed guards. It was decided in our meeting this morning that that particular plan of action wasn’t in her best interests, and this morning you agreed. You’re in the public eye. You’re guarded by men in uniform. Remember Keiran pointing out that Lady Gwen would likely not want to be at the Temple of Solreth as often as you must be there? Remember him pointing out that she likely wants nothing to do with the nobility here that you have to entreat?”

“I changed my mind,” Daric replied before turning back to Gwen. “I spend part of my time meeting with the local nobility and upper-class merchants. Did you bring a dress or two? If not, I can certainly approve some extra allowance for us to go find you something suitable.”

Gwen stood. She wasn’t interested in anything else Daric had to say. Sergeant Damon had already given her enough to know that this wasn’t the plan that had been decided upon. And perhaps the Royal Charter was part of the original plan for her to remain under Sergeant Damon’s protection while he was tied to Daric and perhaps the room change was part of the plan. But this binding her to Daric was not what was expected of her.

“Lady Gwen?” Sergeant Damon stood with her.

“This is your apology?” Gwen turned on Daric. “You haven’t even fully taken responsibility for the issues. You only said you ‘may have’ neglected your responsibilities to me. If you can’t decide if you’ve done wrong or not, why mention it in the first place. But since you haven’t truly apologized, I assume you believe you’ve done nothing wrong.” She saw Daric frown ever so slightly. “Let me tell you what I blame you for. You lied to me. You led me to believe you were looking out for my best interests. Then you put me in danger of the one thing you said you were protecting against!” She stepped away from the table towards the door. “I don’t want to change rooms. I don’t want to be on the Royal Charter. And I certainly have no wish to follow you around like a trained dog!” She was at the door when Sergeant Damon stopped her. He opened his mouth to say whatever was on his mind, but Daric interrupted.

“Your room has already been changed and your place on the Royal Charter is set. I’ll be leaving here half an hour before midday and I expect you to be ready. If you don’t have a dress, we’ll have to leave earlier so you can buy one.” His voice was calm, and he was smiling. Gwen realized exactly what he was doing. It was the same tactic he used on Sergeant Damon whenever he argued with Daric. She was sure he expected it to work on her the same way it worked on Sergeant Damon because he was the Crowned Prince and the Crowned Prince was to be obeyed. Not one person in the realm was to ignore a royal command. It was the monarchy’s way of remaining in control.

Her power fought against her barriers one last time as her anger surged. She had no wish to be controlled by him. She had been controlled all her Blessed life. From Variel, to the Priests of Solreth, to the guards at Faserlaeh, she had been controlled. And now she was being controlled again by Daric. She was sick of it. Sick of being told what she would be allowed to do and what she couldn’t do. Sick of being told where to go and who she had to go with. Sick of having to apply to someone else to do anything. She was sick of Daric and his lies. She was sick of bearing the curse of being Blessed.

Her power pressed through the barrier she kept locked around it and she pressed it back, but already Daric was staring at her in horror. Even Sergeant Damon had removed his hand from her arm where it had rested after he had stopped her. Nothing was burning with uncontrollable Godsfyre but she knew they could at least feel her iron grip slipping.

“Thank you for your generosity these past few months but I don’t believe I will be requiring it any longer. I’ll make my own arrangements for travel. It was nice to meet you, Your Highness,” she gave a mock bow and turned to Sergeant Damon. “I’m not your problem anymore either, Sergeant.”

Gwen turned to push open the door and found Sergeant Damon’s hand had gone back to her arm. She glared at him. She didn’t want to be anyone’s servant. Not Variel’s and certainly not Prince Daric’s. She had some coin with her, and it was enough that she would be able to at least get away from Port Tythrenn and find something else to do. She’d go somewhere where she wasn’t Blessed. Somewhere where she could simply be Gwen and take charge of herself.

“I have a counteroffer to his, if it makes a difference. The offer that Keiran and Sergeant Aloys and Sergeant Nic all worked on with me to come up with for you this morning,” Sergeant Damon’s voice was quiet but not in the same damning calm that Daric’s had been. She relaxed under his hold. The least she could do was let him say his piece. “A single escort, out of uniform,” he waved at his lack of uniform, “whenever you decide to leave the inn. You’re in charge. You say when you want to leave, and this escort will be ready at a moment’s notice. It will always be someone you trust because you know I have your safety as one of my highest priorities. If I am unable to join you, Sergeant Aloys has volunteered to stand in. If you should choose otherwise, both Julian and Aiden asked for the honor.”

Her anger waivered and died down enough that she no longer struggled with her power. He and the others had truly tried to accommodate her in the way that worked best for her though it likely killed all of them to think of leaving their uniforms behind to guard her alone in this city. For a moment, she questioned if she trusted Julian and Aiden now that she knew they had been prison guards, but it passed quickly. She knew them well enough to know they would never harm her intentionally.

Her plan to leave also sounded more foolish now that her control over her power was setting back in. She had no idea where she would go, and it seemed silly to go a random direction in some random fashion. She’d do better to plan and set aside funds. And it was better not to do it directly on the coin given by the King and Prince Daric. She would use her skills in alchemy to create her own fortune. She would pay back all she owed, and she would leave Oleryn behind properly.

“I accept the counteroffer,” Gwen sighed. “For now. But I will not have the room next to this one. I don’t care if it’s a room only fit for a peasant, but I will require a different room.” She pushed open the door and stepped out into the hall. 

“One moment, Lady Gwen, please,” Sergeant Damon begged. He closed the door between her and Daric part way and she could hear a hushed conversation taking place. The door opened again and Sergeant Damon stepped out and closed the door firmly. “Here is the key to this room right here. Your trunk was moved there this morning. I must warn you that your trunk was damaged badly, and I’ll explain more later, but now I must relay your request for a different room. Then you and I can go explore, or shop, or do whatever it is you wish to do, away from Daric.”

Gwen watched him walk down the hall for a few seconds wondering if she dared take such a man of Solreth to Variel’s Temple.


	19. Chapter 18

Damon

When Damon had been sixteen, his parents had sent him to the palace to further his training in swordsmanship. The intent, he knew, was that he would find his place in the world. As a younger son it was highly unlikely that he would inherit Terrowyn when his parents passed. It would go to his eldest brother unless he died, and then to his second eldest brother. The likelihood of both of them dying without having sons to inherit in their place was slim. His eldest brother had already been betrothed by the time Damon had come to the palace and his second eldest brother had been courting someone with the intention of betrothal.

On his first day at the palace he had made fast friends with another sixteen-year-old he had met on the practice courts. They had sparred for much of the afternoon and then they had gone to find dinner together. At dinner he had heard the servants call his companion ‘Highness’ and Damon had practically fallen over himself to apologize for not bowing properly to the Prince, for not properly addressing the Prince all day, for winning the sparring matches on the practice courts. Everything he had done was considered to be highly disrespectful to anyone of the royal line. Daric had waited for the apologies to end and then had started to laugh.

“I like you. I like that you didn’t let me win. I like that you weren’t afraid to tease me or joke with me. Please, let’s continue pretending that I am not the Prince,” Daric had said while Damon had waited for some sort of punishment. It had been a shock, but a pleasant one. To be a friend of the Crowned Prince would guarantee him a position at Court after he ascended to the throne.

Soon they had become nearly inseparable as friends. They had only spent their nights apart and the times Daric was training to become King one day. During the times Daric was doing his training, Damon had gone to do his. He had worked hard at improving his sword skills even more and built up his other weapon skills to expert levels. He had worked alongside the men of the Royal Guard in the practice courts, so he hadn’t been surprised to find them also becoming friends.

When he had turned eighteen, Captain Ebren had approached him and had asked him to consider a position with the Royal Guard. When Daric had found him seriously considering the position, he had made his offer. Damon would become the Sergeant of the Crowned Prince’s Guard which would guarantee him a prestigious career for life. He had taken the position and had joined the ranks of the men he had worked alongside for two years. Since then the Royal Guard and protecting Daric had become his life.

He had only considered abandoning Daric and the Royal Guard once. When he was twenty, a young lady named Mira had come to Court to look for a husband. Damon had been drawn to her instantly. There had been no rules saying that Damon couldn’t have a wife and family while in the Royal Guard. Many men had had sweethearts or wives and children. Many men hadn’t lived in the barracks where they were allowed to live should they not have another place to be. Damon himself had decided against the room in the barracks because his rooms he had been given as a noble at court had been nicer and had been closer to Daric. And it also had been able to better accommodate Lady Mira if he had been able convince her to a betrothal and marriage.

He and Mira had courted the proper way. He had escorted her on walks. He had brought her flowers. He had escorted her to parties and had danced with her. They had dined together in the evenings. There had been stolen kisses when he had walked her back to her rooms and several moments where he had seriously considered asking her to break tradition of the noble woman remaining a virgin until marriage. But she had been a proper lady that had always pushed him away when they were getting too close to being improper.

Then one morning he had gone to report to Daric and had found Lady Mira in Daric’s rooms, unclothed, in his bed. He had been heartbroken. He had broken off everything with Lady Mira immediately and had seriously considered packing his things and abandoning his position with Daric.

His men had been the ones to convince him to stay. They had asked him to move into the barracks and give them one month. Slowly one month had turned to two as he had returned his focus onto the Royal Guard and his training. Slowly he had begun to talk to Daric again only because he was the Sergeant of Daric’s Guard. And slowly it had grown back into the type of friendship they had had before. But Damon had never forgotten Lady Mira’s betrayal and he had never forgiven Daric for it.

“Why be the Captain of the Royal Guard’s lady when you can be Queen?” Mira had told him when he had tried to get an explanation from her. She had been convinced Daric had chosen her and Damon hadn’t been heartless enough to tell her that she had fallen into the trap so many other ladies had fallen into. 

Daric liked to play fast and loose. He wasn’t looking for a queen yet because his father held the strings there. Daric would make a match that was politically sound when the best opportunity arose. It was unlikely any normal lady would fulfill that role.

So Damon had sworn off romantic relationships with women. He even tried Daric’s game of fast and loose for a time but had found it to be mentally taxing. It was better for him to marry himself to his career and forget about women. Daric thought about women enough for the two of them as it was.

But now, six years after Lady Mira, a woman was coming between him and Daric again. Lady Gwen certainly wasn’t trying to get between him and his Prince, she had made that clear. But it was becoming a pattern for her because Daric was making it one. His appointment to her had been the first battle. Daric’s refusal to tell him anything about his charge was the second. Now Daric’s sudden change of the approved plan for her had Damon having to choose a side. And he was finding himself on Lady Gwen’s side.

It wasn’t that he was truly choosing Lady Gwen over Daric. He was choosing anything that would keep Lady Gwen around because the King had clearly wanted her there. There had to have been work done in locating her because finding someone at Faserlaeh wasn’t exactly an easy task. Once someone went in, they were robbed of a name and robbed of anything that truly identified them other than a prisoner number. And there was always the chance that by the time a pardon arrived at Faserlaeh that the person would already be dead. And since Lady Gwen had been there for four years, it was almost impossible that she should have been alive.

Over the last couple of months, Damon had thought he had learned what to expect of Lady Gwen. He never thought he’d have to make a choice between her and Daric. Daric had seemed to want to keep her happy, and Lady Gwen had seemed focused on not stepping on anyone’s toes. And Damon could understand why Lady Gwen didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes now that he knew where she had been. She likely had learned to truly try to avoid bringing any attention to herself. It meant there had been almost no chance she would turn her anger on the Crowned Prince or that he would do anything to anger her. He hadn’t expected any battle lines to be drawn on either side when both had proven to be peacekeepers before that.

Damon had expected the conversation over breakfast to be tense. Lady Gwen had been lied to and had suffered the severe consequences of the lie. She hadn’t been given the level of safety that the Royal Guard was known for. She hadn’t been given the attention that Daric had told her he was giving. It was expected that she’d want Daric’s apology just like it was expected that Daric would give one. Daric had spent most of their morning meeting agonizing over what to say to her and what to give her to make it better.

The room move had been part of the original plan because the inn staff had informed them the night before that getting the mattress repaired or getting a new mattress would take too much time. They had moved her to the only other large room available which had happened to have been next to Daric. The room had been slated to belong to Damon himself as a noble and with his status as heading the Royal Guard while they were in Port Tythrenn, but Damon had decided not to separate himself from the rest of the men. He didn’t want them thinking he was like Captain Ebren who made a point to show his status above the others.

The move to the Royal Charter ship had also been part of the original plan. It had been Keiran’s idea. He would take her place on the ship with Ameia and Lady Gwen would have Gavril as a companion and Damon and his men as guards while they still kept Daric in sight. 

The plan to have Lady Gwen follow Daric around that Daric had proposed early that morning had been shot down. He had reasoned that it had been his plan to apologize over the course of the entire trip. He had wanted to bring her to all the houses of the nobles and wealthier merchants to show her off, have her complimented and praised by others. He wanted to be with her when she went to shops to buy her whatever she showed any sort of interest in. He wanted to give her the prestige of being the Crowned Prince’s companion.

That plan had been denied not only by Damon but also by Keiran. Though the others still respected Daric too much to truly give their real opinions on his plans, Damon could easily tell that Aloys and Nic weren’t exactly on board with Daric’s plan. The counteroffer had come from Damon with Nic’s help and had been backed by both Keiran and Aloys.

Clearly, Daric hadn’t been as on board with that plan as he had let on since he had changed back the moment he had Lady Gwen in front of him. And to Damon’s, and clearly Daric’s, surprise, Lady Gwen hadn’t just accepted this particular change of events. She had become angry and had become flat out disrespectful to Daric. What surprised Damon more was that Daric had backed down. It was likely the fact that Lady Gwen’s eyes, normally on an ever-changing color spectrum from gray to blue to gray again, had started to flicker with the purple-pink Godsfyre she held in her anger. Daric might have been an idiot from time to time, but he wasn’t a fool. Angering a Blessed that had been imprisoned for burning down the Temple of Solreth didn’t sound exactly like the best plan.

After Damon had checked to make sure Daric was alright, he had turned his attention completely to trying to please Lady Gwen. Daric would thank him in the end if Lady Gwen stayed. He had had her room moved a second time with the explanation that she was concerned about the gossip that might ensue if her room was moved next to Prince Daric’s. The inn staff had understood immediately and had gotten to work finding a space in a completely full inn. With her old room out of order the only place left for her was one of the two rooms that had been abandoned by Sergeant Ambrose’s men. The inn staff had assured Damon they would make it suitable for a Blessed as long as she didn’t require a large bed.

Lady Gwen had taken advantage of Damon telling her he was at her mercy for the day and had tracked him all across the lesser traveled shops of the city. The markets closer to the docks were meant for high traffic. The shops she had had in mind were the ones that were dedicated to serving the citizens of Port Tythrenn. She had spent hours looking through bookshelves for particular books and even more hours talking to alchemists about their wares. Damon had had to remind her to eat and they had found an eating house worth stopping at for midday.

Now they were back, and he had sent her up to her new room with a promise to send dinner up her direction though dinner had likely been served several hours before. The inn staff would find something for her and then he would beg something for himself as well.

The common room of the inn was full of Royal Guard men. Unlike the rooms the Blessed and Daric had, the rooms the men occupied were small and had only room to sleep and change clothes. That left the common room as a place for them to socialize, eat, and drink. Damon spotted his own men against one wall and with them sat Sergeant Aloys, a few of his men, Sergeant Nic, a few of his men, Keiran, and Gavril.

Despite the extra space in their rooms to have gatherings, Keiran and Gavril had made it clear they enjoyed being in the common room in the evenings. It set them apart from Daric but also from the other Blessed. They knew all the men and the men knew them well.

They saw him and waved him over, but he shook his head and went in search of one of the inn staff to make sure he and Lady Gwen both got dinner. Once his request was relayed and he was assured it was no trouble, he went to join his men.

“Well, Damon, I never thought I’d see the day you’d go anywhere without your uniform,” Gavril teased. “And for a woman, no less.”

“Lady Gwen is better protected by us pretending she isn’t being protected,” Damon replied. He knew Nic would have filled Gavril in on the whole conversation. 

“Of course, but you didn’t have to volunteer to be the one to do it. There were other volunteers,” Aloys grinned.

“I won’t ask anyone else to do what I won’t do,” Damon bristled. He didn’t want anyone thinking that he was being inappropriate with Lady Gwen. He had sworn off women and it was immoral for him to conduct a relationship with a charge.

“Of course not,” Nic shifted slightly.

“Any idea what happened to Daric this morning? He suddenly decided to change his plans for the day and rescheduled his midday meeting. He’s been hiding in his rooms all day and doesn’t want to talk about it.” Keiran changed the subject.

Damon fought the urge to stand and go check on Daric immediately. He rarely forewent his duties as a Crowned Prince. If Lady Gwen’s anger had affected him that much, then it was Damon’s duty to make sure he was alright. But then, he had done it to himself and had completely miscalculated on how to deal with Lady Gwen.

“He may have been on the receiving end of Lady Gwen’s anger this morning,” Damon admitted to Keiran.

“She was angry about the attack?” Keiran lowered his voice so it wouldn’t carry beyond the tables they had pushed together.

“She was angry about him telling her she was, oh how did she put it? That she was to trail him like a trained dog for the rest of this trip,” Damon sighed.

“He didn’t. That wasn’t the plan we agreed to,” Keiran gasped.

“He did. He tried to command her, and she turned on him,” Damon announced. “I’m not surprised he’s still feeling the effects of it. I’m still a little in shock that she spoke to him in such a manner. She’s normally so meek and for her to verbally assault the Crowned Prince seems a bit farfetched for her.” He saw Gavril and Keiran exchange a look and frowned. “What?”

“I’ve almost been expecting this,” Keiran admitted.

“Gwen is the Chaos Blessed, Variel’s Chosen. What else would you expect? She’s bound to be unpredictable. It’s foolish to believe that her unpredictable nature is contained simply to her power. She had to have had some quality that Variel was drawn to,” Gavril shrugged.

“It’s not completely out of question for her to challenge someone of royal blood. My father still talks about the day he met the Chaos Blessed because even beaten, starved, and having been dragged across Dovania without any sort of indication of what was going on, she still had him on his toes. I’ll never forget her telling him that he’d get around to answering her questions in his own time. He’s laughed for hours about it.” Keiran chuckled. 

Damon stared between the two of them. Gavril was right. Lady Gwen likely did have an element of chaos in her nature. It made sense at how she had switched from quiet in his presence to a force to be reckoned with in Daric’s presence. It made sense that she would suddenly decide she was completely done and try to leave. It made sense that she would change her mind yet again and stay. Her mind had to be nearly as chaotic as the Godsfyre cyclone she had created on accident.

And Keiran had also given an interesting clue. Lady Gwen had gone before the King on her arrival at the palace as all Blessed had done. That she had spoken so frankly to the King had been a hint that she wasn’t exactly stable. Being frank with the King was almost considered disrespectful. That King Alaric had found it amusing was a blessing for Lady Gwen. Others had found themselves imprisoned for less on his whim. He would have to make sure she crossed that line rarely if he was still charged with her protection.

“But I can’t believe Daric’s locked himself away today because she turned her words on him,” Keiran interrupted Damon’s thoughts.

“Well, there’s the small matter of her eyes flickering with her Godsfyre,” Damon admitted.

“She turned her power on Daric?” The alarm on Gavril’s face was echoed on the faces of nearly every guard listening.

“No. She didn’t harm him. She only showed her anger in a way he would understand,” Damon shifted in his seat. “She calmed considerably when I gave her the option for her safety we had agreed on. It was a far cry better than what she had in mind at that moment.”

“What did she have in mind?” Gavril asked.

“Leaving. She informed Daric his generosity was no longer needed and told me she wouldn’t be my problem anymore.” Damon sighed. If King Alaric had made a point to forgive Lady Gwen’s disrespect, then it would have been a terrible thing if she would have left.

“She’s up in her room now?” Gavril stood.

“Yes, but not the same room she was in yesterday or even the one she was supposed to be in this morning,” Damon stood. “She demanded to be moved away from Daric. I thought it best for both of them if she got her wish.”

“I think I should go speak with her,” Gavril shifted out from behind the table displacing the men that had settled around him. “I’ll be clear, Keiran, I will not convince her to stay if she wants to truly leave.”

“Then what are you going to speak to her for?” Keiran asked.

“She nearly lost control of her power. I think she’ll want to talk to someone that understands,” Gavril squeezed out from the last chair and nearly ran into the young maid bringing out a plate of dinner for Damon.

“You two didn’t eat when you were out?” Gavril demanded when the plate was set down in front of him.

“I had to convince her to eat midday while we were out shopping. Dinner was a fight I wasn’t going to pick when she knew she could eat once we got back here,” Damon shrugged.

“Has Lady Gwen received her dinner yet?” Gavril asked the maid. “No? I’ll bring it up since I’m going anyway.” Gavril followed the maid towards the kitchen to retrieve Lady Gwen’s plate.

“Father will be angry if Daric is responsible for pushing Gwen into leaving,” Keiran buried his face against his hands. “I won’t be able to cover for him with her this time.”

This wasn’t the first time this day that Damon had heard that Keiran had covered for Daric. Even Lady Gwen had acknowledged to Daric that Keiran had been covering his behind with her. It almost surprised Damon because Keiran had always been Daric’s annoying little brother that had no responsibilities and acted like he had no responsibilities. Even with his Blessing he seemed to act as if duties didn’t exist to him. Now he wondered if Keiran was simply better at hiding he was actually doing useful things with his time.

And Damon wouldn’t forget that it was Keiran that had taken charge the day before when it had become clear how personal the attack on Lady Gwen had been. Keiran had been the one to take charge the night before when Damon had brought his theory of Lady Gwen’s attacker to them. Keiran had been the one that had handed down the punishments to Ambrose and his men. Keiran had been the one to take Paxton’s written statement. Keiran had even been the one back at the palace to remind Daric that Lady Gwen wanted to speak with him. How many more times had Keiran taken charge when Daric had frozen or had forgotten his duties to Lady Gwen?

It was something Damon would have to think on. Daric had always been the one cut of the King’s cloth. He was the one destined to be King. He held the charm and tact that a King needed. He wore the crown like it was a natural part of his golden-red hair. Keiran had simply been destined to be a Duke with random unimportant duties to keep him busy at the palace. Keiran lacked tact. Few people felt the need to listen to him. Few people took him seriously. He rarely took himself seriously. There had been no question to which prince was better suited to each role. But Lady Gwen had changed Daric’s ability to smooth over every situation and had brought forth something else in Keiran. Perhaps that was also some part of her chaotic nature. She was upending Damon’s world and perhaps she had upended others as well without even trying.

“I don’t think she’s going to be leaving, or not yet, anyway. Once she had calmed, she didn’t seem ready to pack her belongings and go,” Damon picked at the food in front of him. Around them conversation was picking up in other directions. He glanced at Keiran.

“I should have fought harder to keep her at the palace rather than bring her to this cursed place,” Keiran still had his head buried in his hands. “I’m grateful she isn’t leaving but I don’t know how to fix this now.”

Damon didn’t have an answer for Keiran either. He had enough to consider about Lady Gwen and it was clear he wasn’t the only one.


	20. Chapter 19

Gwen stood outside of Sergeant Damon’s door bouncing from foot to foot. The ceremony for the opening of the Temple was in the morning and it was probably very close to midnight. They all needed to be up before dawn to get down to the docks. She needed to be well rested in order to get through the entire day and so that Ameia wouldn’t berate her too much for the darkness around her eyes.

At dawn, she and the other Blessed, Daric, and the Royal Guard were all supposed to be at the docks preparing. What that meant for Gwen was simply letting Ameia take control. 

Ameia had realized only a few days in to arriving at Port Tythrenn that Gwen had no costume and had insisted on making it herself. Ameia had produced sketches of what Gwen was going to look like for the day and it had been both impressive and silly.

The gown had been a point of contention where both had ended up compromising. The fabric was a silk cloth that appeared silver but also took on a lavender tone when the light hit it right. Ameia had explained that the silk threads the cloth was woven of were silver and lavender twisted together to create such an effect. It would be a sleeveless tunic style on top with the neckline draping down over her chest. It would be held tight at her waist with a belt and then the skirt would flow down over her legs. It would not be held out by layers of cloth as court fashions normally went. 

The compromise had come in at the skirt. Gwen had been concerned about having to mount a horse and ride a horse in such a gown and she had also been concerned about wearing a skirt and leaving herself vulnerable. Ameia added a slit up the side of each leg and had promised to find appropriately colored leggings to go under. It would keep her from having to ride side saddle when she barely knew how to ride normally, and it would give her the level of protection she wanted.

The rest had been details she had left up to Ameia. Her hair was to be coated in an oil that would leave it smooth, glossy, and shimmering while it was to be left loose and wild. It would be bound back only with a crown of wildflowers. Her visible skin, to hide scars and to make her more impressive looking according to Ameia, was to be coated in a white paste with mica ground into it to make her skin look like marble with crystals in it. Her face was to be painted up complete with a plum colored lip paint to give a nod to Variel. Her wrists would be covered in metal bracers. The whole thing would take over an hour to accomplish even with Ameia’s help.

She needed to rest. She needed to go back to her room and sleep. Or at least, she needed to not bother Sergeant Damon and make sure he at least got some sleep. But her legs seemed to ignore what she should do and held her firmly in front of that door and her traitorous hand knocked on it. Neither would listen when her brain told her she still had time to run away before someone answered.

“Lady Gwen?” Sergeant Damon had opened the door and was blinking down at her. “Are you alright?”

She meant to tell him she was fine and she was simply worried about the morning. She meant to tell him to go back to sleep and not worry about her. She meant to say anything except, “I need to go to the Temple of Variel, now.”

Silently, Gwen cursed her whole body. Why was it ignoring common sense? She didn’t need to go to the crumbling, forgotten temple. She had had two weeks to go and had spent it shopping for books on plants from around the world and for the oils, essences, powders, and dried plants she couldn’t get in Oleryn. She didn’t need to go at all. But she couldn’t sleep, and she felt drawn to the temple again.

Sergeant Damon had every right to tell her to march her behind back to her room to sleep. He had every right to slam the door in her face. He had every right to tell her she was insane.

“Alright, give me a moment,” he sighed and closed the door. 

Gwen stared at it. She’d be apologizing all the way up to the temple and back again. She’d be apologizing all throughout the ceremonies tomorrow and well through their journey back to Oleryn. The door opened less than thirty seconds later, and Sergeant Damon stepped out dressed and still securing his belt with his sword attached. 

“Alright, lead on.”

She turned and led the way down the stairs to the common room and out of the door. Sergeant Damon followed dutifully as she turned up the street towards the part of the Temple District where the temples were located.

“You know,” Sergeant Damon started. “I wasn’t aware they had a Temple of Variel in Port Tythrenn. With how they feel about Variel and all, you would think they wouldn’t want a temple for her here.”

“I think it was here long before the scriptures about Solreth triumphing over Variel one day,” Gwen explained.

“It’s not scripture,” he reminded her. Gwen rolled her eyes and let out her own sigh. 

Sergeant Damon’s feelings on Port Tythrenn working off of false scripture were known well enough by her, Gavril, Keiran, and of his men that had been around the past four weeks, and anyone else in the Royal Guard that had happened to be around to listen. The only person she was sure wasn’t aware of it was Daric because she doubted Daric listened to anything but the sound of his own voice. 

“It’s not!” He complained as he caught her arm to string through his. “Solreth and Variel are siblings, dependent on each other. He needs chaos to create order from and she needs order to create chaos from. As it is, you cannot completely eradicate chaos. If they were to get their wish for no chaos in this city, all the men of the Watch would be without jobs. There could be no children. The famous markets here would cease to exist. The city would dry up and die if they got their wish.”

“I wouldn’t tell the High Priest of Solreth that. He’s very devoted to those scriptures,” Gwen settled into Sergeant Damon’s slightly slower pace.

“Only a fool would tell that man he’s wrong. Perhaps I should convince Daric to do it. Tell him about what could happen to one of Dovania’s wealth producing cities if they get their wish. It could be something worth watching if he were to take the bait,” Sergeant Damon chuckled.

“Neither of them would back down either.” Gwen knew that Daric wouldn’t pick that fight though. The High Priest of Solreth in Port Tythrenn had the power to tell his people and most of the people in the north that Solreth had turned his face from the monarchy of Dovania. Even if the High Priest in Oleryn tried to combat it, damage would be done. There would likely be a rebellion in Solreth’s name that would cost lives and money on both sides. She guessed that Sergeant Damon might have been thinking of the same thing too because he had fallen silent

They walked almost all the way up the large temples that were to the more important gods when Gwen stopped and took her arm from Sergeant Damon’s to kneel at the edge of the street.

“What are you doing?” He demanded but she ignored him as she pushed the grass aside. The stone path was almost completely buried beneath overgrown grass and dirt. Only small little bits of white stone stood out in the dark.

“The path is almost completely gone. Eight years ago, these stones were still above the dirt. Even four years ago you could still see them,” she explained to Sergeant Damon.

“This is the path to the Temple of Variel?” He crouched down next to her to brush the dirt off a stone. “I can’t imagine she’s happy with how the people haven’t maintained the path.”

“I don’t think this is what upsets her,” Gwen stood. “If you think this is neglected, you should see what’s at the top of the path.” She waited for Sergeant Damon to stand and led him up the path.

At the top of the path was the small knoll that the temple sat on. The bushes on either side of the door were so overgrown they blocked most of the building from view.

“Is it even safe to go in there?” Sergeant Damon asked as they pushed aside the thorny branches of the bushes to uncover the entrance. With only a small section of the doorway uncovered they could both see part of the roof had collapsed to the side of the altar.

“Probably not,” Gwen shrugged. “You can stay out here if you don’t want to come in. I understand I’ve already asked a lot tonight.”

“There is no way I am sitting out here while you go in this unstable building. I need to be in there in case the rest of the roof comes down so I can at least have a chance at tossing you outside.” He held one branch back enough that both of them could go inside.

In the moonlight that came through the hole in the ceiling, Gwen could see the hangings were barely distinguishable with the fraying and the holes in them. The dust on the floor was half an inch thick. And the altar itself was cracked right down the center of Variel’s symbol.

It was hard to imagine this place as a place where a Blessed was created. It was hard to imagine it as a place where her life as she had known it had ceased to exist.

“Did you bring an offering?” Sergeant Damon’s voice broke her thoughts.

“Yes,” Gwen reached down to her belt purse and withdrew a small vial. Inside of the vial was a small amount of expensive sandalwood oil. She set it down on the altar and knelt in front of it. Automatically her mind sent up a prayer to the forgotten goddess for guidance through the ceremonies in the morning. No one else would be able to stand at her side and protect her if the crowds recognized her. Sergeant Damon and all the Royal Guard would be in the crowds watching. Gavril and Keiran would be on the other side of the steps. Perhaps Edith, the person slated to stand next to her, would help her disappear but that seemed to be asking too much even from the Trickster Blessed. She also needed Variel to be with her when she entered the Temple of Solreth where Solreth was waiting for her. She hadn’t forgotten Gavril’s words to her.

“You said eight years ago the stone path was visible,” Sergeant Damon started when she sat back from her prayers. “Is this where it happened? Where you saw Variel and she gave you her Blessing?”

“Yes, it’s glorious, isn’t it? Exactly what you pictured, I’m sure,” she heard him bite back a chuckle at her sarcasm. “When I was ten, this place was a little less neglected.”

“Forgive me if I’m pushing my luck here,” Sergeant Damon started, “but how did you end up at the Temple of Solreth as a ward? Clearly you have family.” She didn’t need to be reminded that Elden was always around somewhere in the Temple District, and they had gone out of their way to avoid him several times, and that Jasson practically lived at the inn they were staying at. 

“Elden found me after Variel had Blessed me. I was on the ground, here,” she moved to stand where she had once writhed in pain from the Blessing. “He hauled me up and dragged me straight up to the Temple of Solreth where my father and my other brother were worshipping.”

“Jasson, the hostler at the inn,” Sergeant Damon supplied.

“No, another brother, Tomas,” she clarified.

“Just how many siblings do you have?” He demanded.

“Elden, Tomas, Jasson, and then two sisters: Lora and Eilane,” Gwen listed off the names of people she only half remembered. “All but Tomas lived in Port Tythrenn the last I knew.”

“That might have been worth knowing after I confronted you about Elden,” Sergeant Damon sighed.

“I suppose. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Gwen sighed. She had withheld information from him yet again though this time it hadn’t been intentional. Her sisters had been very involved in their own worlds of sewing and weaving. Had she accompanied Ameia shopping there was a chance she might have crossed them, but she had avoided shopping with Ameia.

“So, you went up to the Temple of Solreth where your father and Tomas were worshipping with Elden bringing you there. Then what?” Sergeant Damon pushed.

“Elden walked away and came back with the High Priest ,and Tomas, and my father. The High Priest grabbed my shoulders, and I realized my family was walking away. I tried to go after them, but I couldn’t get away from the High Priest. They wouldn’t turn around when I called after them.” She winced as she remembered the sound of her own screams as her family abandoned her. “The High Priest took me inside the temple, threw me in a closet in the back of the temple and locked the door. When he let me out three days later, when I was too dehydrated and starved to run away, he threw a set of undyed robes at me and told me I belonged to the Temple of Solreth and was required to complete chores to pay for my crime.”

“And what crime did he say you committed?” Sergeant Damon had sat down against the temple wall.

“Worshipping Variel.” Gwen found a place to sit too. “So that’s how I became a ward of the Temple of Solreth.”

“So, your family abandoned you to the Temple of Solreth. Did you get a chance to talk to them ever?” He asked.

“No. I tried a few times to reach out to them when they came in to worship but they ignored me. Pretended they didn’t hear me calling their names, pretended there was no one where they were trying not to look.” Gwen shrugged. “Not that I didn’t hear from any of them again. Elden was the member of the Watch that arrested me the night the Temple of Solreth burned. He put me on the boat to Faserlaeh.”

“You mentioned that before,” Sergeant Damon’s voice was quiet. “Tell me what happened that night. What happened to make you set the temple on fire?”

“I had been there for four years. Four miserable years where I slept on the floor of a closet and the only thing I was allowed to have was the undyed robes of a ward. Anything anyone else thought to give me was confiscated by the High Priest. That day he had confiscated a book, just a story book that had been given to me by an acolyte that had felt bad for me. He had confiscated it and then he forgot to lock the door of the closet. I decided to go take the book back, so I could have something, anything that was mine.” She bit her lip remembering the book Sergeant Damon had ripped out of her hands that first night. Edith had gotten it back for her. Perhaps she had just needed Edith that night.

“He caught you?” Sergeant Damon asked.

“He wouldn’t have. But I stayed in his office longer. In the drawer that held the book I found two letters dated for a year before several months apart addressed to me. The first was simply to inform me that my father had taken ill and was unlikely to recover. It told me to request time to come home to see him. It was signed by my mother. It was as if she thought I was a ward by choice.” She felt her breath shudder as emotion leaked into her voice. “And the second letter, it stated my father had died and that I should come home. My mother wanted me to come home. She wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Elden had been instructed to come for me and make me go. And he hadn’t come and I hadn’t been there for my father’s death rites. For all I know my mother still believes I refused to come home. I don’t know what Elden told her. I was upset. Despite everything, I loved my father and he was gone, and I hadn’t been there. I should have been, but I didn’t know, so I wasn’t.

“The High Priest had a cane he favored. It was ivory with a gold orb for the handle. He liked to use it on me whenever I displeased him. That was at least once every other day. I was never without bruises from him. He caught me in his study that night when he realized he hadn’t locked me in my closet properly and he raised his cane to me. I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt the anger and frustration and sadness combine into that deadly place where it becomes rage, and I just wanted to be rid of that damned temple and the priests that held me there. At first, I thought I was imagining the fire. The High Priest had fled. I tried to stop it. I tried to call it back. It fought me. Some instinct took over and I ran, but I only got as far as the steps. I heard men screaming inside. They were dying and I was responsible.” She felt the tears burning down her cheeks.

“Your brother caught you there then?” Sergeant Damon’s voice was little more than a whisper now.

“No. Eventually, I realized what might happen to me if I was caught so I ran. I ran to the only place I knew I’d be safe. I came here and I hid behind the altar and cried. I begged Variel to take back her Blessing. I just wanted everything to go back to the way it had been before I had been Blessed. Sometime close to dawn I heard someone approaching the temple. They stood outside and then I heard Elden call in. He called me his baby sister. He apologized for everything. He told me he wanted to make things right. He’d take me home with him and everything would be okay. He’d make the last four years up to me. I had thought that perhaps it was Variel’s apology to me for the Blessing. I had thought that maybe perhaps this nightmare was over. I had wanted it to be true so badly that I didn’t think he might be lying, so I walked right out to him and the shackles.”

“What about the trial? Didn’t you explain that it was an accident?” Sergeant Damon asked.

“I was brought before the High Priest and a magistrate. No questions were asked because no one dared to question the High Priest. I was guilty and I needed to be held responsible. So, I went to Faserlaeh on an old fishing vessel and spent four years there until King Alaric sent for me.” Gwen let her head fall back against the cracked granite altar. After a long moment she heard Sergeant Damon moving, then his bulk was at her side and his arm went around her shoulders.

“Lady Gwen?” He offered a handkerchief to her.

“Why do you call me that still? Not even Daric uses the title anymore,” she asked while she dabbed at her eyes with the cloth. Oddly enough even the handkerchief held Sergeant Damon’s scent of weapon polish, sandalwood, and a small hint of sweat. It was nearly as comforting as the arm around her shoulders.

“You’ve never given me permission to call you by anything else,” he gave a shrug.

“Oh. You can call me Gwen if you want,” she felt a smile tug on her lips as she thought that breaking rank with Sergeant Damon might cause him a heart attack. He was usually so by the rule book.

“Then you can call me Damon. You’re not in the Royal Guard so technically you never had to call me Sergeant. I’m not sure if anyone actually told you that,” he pulled her a little closer.

“But you worked hard on getting your title. Mine is only honorary for something I’m not even happy about. I never asked for a Blessing. I asked her to accept my offering because I felt bad she had been forgotten.” Gwen toyed with the handkerchief in her hands.

“You know, maybe the High Priest here isn’t foolish enough to get rid of Variel’s temple but he’s done a fine job making it get rid of itself. Without priestesses or worshippers, it’s decayed beyond repair at this point. The path is almost completely hidden. I wouldn’t be surprised if Variel picked you to get back at this city for ignoring her so.” Damon sighed. “Perhaps we should get back. It will be time to wake up soon and neither of us will be too happy with ourselves come noon when we’ve run out of energy and the day is only half over.” His arm came out from behind her shoulders and he stood to offer a hand down to her. “Is there anything else you want to do here, Gwen?”

“Not at all,” she took his arm and let him lead her out of the temple and down the temple path. She felt lighter, better, and not just because she had gone to visit her patroness’ temple. It was because of Sergeant Damon, Damon. Perhaps he thought she was a monster for burning down the temple in a rage. Perhaps he thought she deserved Faserlaeh. But he had agreed to a less formal way of addressing each other and he had taken the time to try and comfort her. It meant that even if he did think her a monster, he certainly was taking pains not to show it.

Back at the inn he walked her to her room but stopped her before she opened the door. When she turned to face him, he was staring at her face in the scant light in the hall. He seemed to be looking for something, but she couldn’t begin to guess what. Then suddenly his jaw set into the tight line that marked him as frustrated or upset. Perhaps he did think her a monster and now that he wasn’t fully responsible for her, now that they weren’t walking outside where he was duty bound to protect her, he was going to tell her she needed to call on a different guard.

“I just wanted you to know,” he started and then paused. With how hard the words seemed to be for him, she felt her heart start to sink. He was truly searching for a way to get rid of her.

“It’s alright, I know I’m a monster. I’ll ask Julian and Aiden to escort me until we get back to Oleryn,” she supplied. “Thank you for at least making sure I got back alright.” She went to open the door, not wanting to see his face but he stopped her once again.

“You’re not a monster. You contain a terrifying power. You contain it even when I know you are angry, or frustrated, or ready to break into a thousand pieces. You failed to hold it back once under extreme emotional distress. That does not make you a monster. You didn’t deserve the treatment the High Priest gave you. As a ward of the temple he owed you a bed, the ability to have personal belongings, the ability to read your own mail, and time to go see your father. These are all things that the Scriptures of Solreth outline for wards of the temple. He shouldn’t have beat you. He shouldn’t have brought you to a point where you exploded with rage. If anything, those deaths are on him and his inhumane treatment of you.” He stopped and seemed to draw in a deep breath. “I just wanted to thank you for telling me your story. If you ever need to talk about Faserlaeh or what happened to you there, you can come find me. The middle of the night, when I’m training, especially when Daric tries to make me guard him through meetings.” He cringed and Gwen didn’t bother concealing her giggle.

“If I ever feel like I have to talk about it, I will find you,” she agreed when he didn’t seem to be leaving without some sort of confirmation.

“Good. Goodnight, Gwen,” he gave her a grin before he turned to walk away.

“It’s funny,” she commented out loud though she wasn’t sure he could hear anymore. “Edith called you Sergeant Stick-Up-His-Arse the first night I met her. With how long she’s stalked you and Daric I’m surprised she hasn’t seen you when you’re being like this. Perhaps she’d amend that name.”

“I’d prefer Edith always think of me that way. It keeps her sure that I don’t know when she sneaks into my rooms or when she climbs through your privy window,” he winked at her and then walked down the hall.

“He might be smarter than I give him credit for,” Edith appeared at Gwen’s side. “Did you two escape for some kissing? Does Sergeant Stick-Up-His-Arse kiss by the book or does he allow for a little rule breaking? Personally, I think he probably enjoys to give a little nip or two on the lip.”

“It’s not like that and I’m sure you know it. He went with me to leave an offering at the Temple of Variel, that’s all. Now you and I should both go get some rest before Ameia attacks us with beauty products at dawn,” Gwen yawned. She was finally tired.

“She wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole and I’m fine with that. I’ll be laughing while she has her hands on you,” Edith teased. “Goodnight, Chaos Sister.” She giggled and vanished on the spot. Gwen only shook her head and went into her room with every intention of falling on the bed and staying there until someone dragged her out.


	21. Chapter 20

Gwen woke to the quiet knock on her door in the morning with a groan. She had gotten very little sleep even after they had returned after midnight. Worries about her family recognizing her during the parade or at the ceremony kept her awake. Worries that she would be recognized and sent back to Faserlaeh for simply existing had kept her sitting at her table working on recipes rather than in her bed.

“Lady… I mean Gwen,” she heard Damon’s voice as the door opened a crack. “Are you awake and decent?”

“Do I really have to go?” She complained realizing she had fallen asleep at the table. “I mean, it really doesn’t matter if Variel’s Chosen is there today, right?”

“It matters,” the door opened further. “Did you sleep at your table?”

“I must have,” Gwen stood and rolled her head and shoulders to stretch the aches from her neck and back.

“Come on, breakfast and then we have to go. I’ll even let you ride with me so you can sleep on the way down.” He smiled down at her.

“I can’t sleep in the same room as other people, what makes you think I’m going to sleep while riding a horse with lots of other people around?” None the less, she pulled on her boots and followed Damon out of the door down to the common room. Already the common room was a mad house of guards in parade gear and tired Blessed sitting at tables with cups of hot tea to wake them up. Inn staff ran between tables dropping off trays of food.

Damon brought Gwen over to a table where Gavril sat with Nic, Keiran, and Daric were all drinking tea and blinking away sleepiness.

“I see you had to drag her out,” Keiran commented when Damon sat.

“She was asleep at her table,” Damon pushed a cup of tea her way. “Something kept you up after I walked you back to your room last night?” He asked softly. Gwen watched as Daric’s head snapped up quickly for his crystal blue eyes to stare between her and Damon.

“What’s to keep the crowds from recognizing Variel’s Blessed? What’s to keep them from deciding they would be much better off if I was in Orvanus’ realms?” Gwen asked finally.

“I promised that I’d protect you,” Damon reached across the table and gripped her hand for a second. Gwen bit back her retort that he was one man against a city of over twenty thousand. With most of the population turning out and with more visitors coming from neighboring villages, he’d be well outnumbered. But she wouldn’t tell him he would likely fail his duties to her. There was a chance he’d take it as a challenge and sacrifice his own life to save her. Instead, she turned her attention to a sleepy-eyed Lucile as she brought trays of food around.

After breakfast was done the Blessed mounted up with a few select guards and rode down to the docks. The rest of the guards would follow on foot to minimize the number of horses. True to his offer, Damon led Gwen to his horse and helped her to mount up in front of him. The only problem with riding with Damon was Daric at his side.

“You two were out late, then?” Daric asked after a few minutes.

“Gwen needed to clear her mind and visit the Temple of Variel when no one was around to witness,” Damon supplied. “The best time was simply when others were sleeping to prepare for today.” She felt him shrug behind her, but she kept her eyes trained forward on the sleepy people already staking out their spots for the parade. 

It struck her as odd that if she had never been Blessed, she would have been just as excited to stand on the side of a street for hours to make sure she had the best spot to watch the Blessed pass by. But then, if she had never been Blessed, this parade wouldn’t have happened at all. The Temple of Solreth would never have had to been rebuilt because it never would have burned so thoroughly to the ground. The thoughts occupied her until they reached the docks and Damon helped her down into Ameia’s waiting grasp.

“You won’t even recognize her when you see her next,” Ameia teased Damon and Daric as she led Gwen away. Gwen very much hoped that Ameia could make her unrecognizable. She had a very good guess that the High Priest would recognize her if he saw her face. Gavril had assured her that Daric and no one else had informed the High Priest of the sixth Blessed so he had no time to think on it. Perhaps the rest of the population would think that King Alaric had simply become tired of making big announcements for Blessed after he had passed five.

An hour and a half later, Gwen was back outside of the warehouse dressed in her Blessed costuming. The oil that Ameia had found for her hair had made it glossy but also brought out the natural waves to create a mass of thick, silky, loose curls down past her chest. The garland of wildflowers was accented with small white flowers and woven into her hair. The crushed mica paste covered and erased the scars on her arms and revealed portion of her chest to create a marble white skin tone that glittered in the sun like crystal. Her face was coated in the same paste. Her eyes were lined in black, her eyelashes lengthened, pink powder was applied to her eyelids and cheeks, her lips were painted plum purple. Her gown was beautiful, and the leggings underneath were lavender. The last pieces to have gone on were five-inch silver bracers that covered her wrists completely. The whole picture in the mirror was stunning. Outside of the warehouse where Daric and the Royal Guard waited along with the other fully dressed Blessed, Gwen noticed heads turning to look at her and Ameia.

“Eiannae, bless me,” she heard Daric whisper when Ameia led her back over to Damon. Damon turned and she saw his silvery green eyes go wide for a moment before he blinked and shook himself from whatever had stunned him.

“I certainly didn’t recognize you as Ameia promised,” he admitted after a moment. “You look divine, truly.”

“Do I look like I belong to Variel?” Gwen asked softly.

“Yes, but only because I know what to look for. I wouldn’t guess that’s what you were right away,” he assured her. “Now, you’re going to ride my mount up to the temple. I thought it best. But you’ll be riding at the tail end of the procession. I’m going to have Julian and Aiden walking at your sides. And, of course, there will be a rear guard to keep you separated from the crowds that will be following.”

“Of course,” Gwen knew that Damon wouldn’t be walking by her. His first duty was to Daric and now that Daric was on parade, he’d return to Daric’s side. But she would be the furthest away from him as possible.

“And it looks like we are getting ready to line up,” Daric stood a bit straighter. “They’ll want us moving here in less than ten minutes.” She looked to him and realized he was dressed for once as a true Crowned Prince with his crown atop his head and a doublet of royal purple and gold. He looked impressive. Beside him Damon was dressed in his parade gear of a polished mail shirt, purple tunic with the royal insignia, and a short black cape. They looked impressive together.

Ameia was dressed in a gold silk gown that showed off her womanly figure with her face painted up in the court fashion and her hair pinned to curl on top of her head. Gavril appeared massive in golden plate armor with a sword nearly as tall as she was and almost as wide as her. Keiran was robed in a blue that matched his almost black eyes with stars glittering across the material. Paxton was robed from head to toe in black with a black hood covering his head and face. Edith was dressed in leather armor that was fitted with knives on every available surface. Her mane of wild hair was braided back tightly against her scalp.

By the time Gwen had spotted all the Blessed, Damon had brought his horse around for her and boosted her up. After a moment of fussing over her skirts, Ameia left to go find her own mount. Julian and Aiden took their places on either side by her legs and smiled up at her while the rest of the line formed. Within the time frame Daric had given, they were lined up and Daric was leading them out.

Cheers erupted as they began the long climb up to the Temple District. In front of her she could see her fellow Blessed giving smiles to the crowd but no waves or words to anyone. She followed suit, not wanting to draw any more attention than she already was. Heads were turning her way, excited whispers followed. The crowds formed their own parade at her back as they merged in the street behind the rear guard to follow the Blessed up to the Temple of Solreth.

As they entered the Temple District Gwen instinctively looked to the inn, The Merry Wood, and forced her smile to stay on her face and forced herself to not look away too quickly. Elden was standing by the gate with Jasson. She was used to seeing them, but it was Tomas at their side with a pretty red-haired woman and two small children along with both of her sisters, their husbands and their children. But most of all, it was her mother slightly bent with age standing with them watching the crowds. Of course, they all would gather for this occasion. Celebrating Solreth was best done with family. She looked away slowly to avoid staring for too long or drawing too much attention to the movement. Her heart ached and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to go back to her room and hide until the ceremonies were over.

At the Temple of Solreth, Damon was waiting for her at the steps. He helped her down off his horse and then stopped her while they were still mostly shielded from the crowd by its bulk.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly.

“No,” she shook her head. She couldn’t lie to him now. “But there’s nothing for it.”

“Take your place. It will be done with soon. Once we get inside, you’ll be closer to Daric and I’ll be able to keep a better eye on you,” he sighed.

He wouldn’t even be able to keep too close of an eye on Daric, Gwen mused as she walked up the steps to her spot. The Royal Guard were not to stand on the steps. They were given a special place of honor at the front of the crowd where ropes kept their area marked as reserved. As she took her place two steps below Edith and off to one side, she noticed that there was one other area roped off. The Royal Guard would stand below Daric, Gavril, Ameia, and Keiran on the one side. Whoever else had a place of honor was below herself, Edith, and Paxton.

It didn’t take long for her to find who was taking that spot. As the crowds filed into the open square in front of the Temple of Solreth, she spotted her family being escorted by a group of the Tythrenn Watch right up to the roped off area. She was close enough to hear them talking even over the crowds.

“It’s good to see you being honored, Sergeant,” one of the men saluted Elden who returned the salute. “You raised a good man, Mistress Wood,” the man said to her mother.

“I’m proud of all of my children,” her mother replied. Gwen looked down at the steps to hide the blush that probably wasn’t even visible through the mica paste on her cheeks. She doubted her mother would say that if she didn’t believe that Gwen was dead. She doubted her mother was proud of her at all. Perhaps she didn’t think of Gwen as a daughter anymore, even in death. Tears stung at her eyes and dripped down to the tiles on the steps under her feet. She sent up another prayer to Variel for guidance and felt something like a cool wind settle at her back and stay just behind her. For once she believed Variel was with her when she had called.

Looking down at the tiles once more, Gwen frowned. The white tiles were worth a fortune alone with each tile carved with a gold sun in the center. It appeared to be real gold in the etching. Beyond that, the grout that normally would have been white or brown was shining gold. Someone had used melted gold to hold the tiles in place. Each tile on the step held a fortune. She tore her eyes away from the tiles and the abhorrent use of wealth, and immediately they found her family again.

“Who is the sixth Blessed? I haven’t heard anything about her,” one of her sisters asked.

“Whoever she is, she’s pretty,” one of the little girls’ voices soared through the air.

“I haven’t heard any announcements of a sixth Blessed. Perhaps the news hasn’t reached us yet,” Tomas shrugged.

Gwen looked up and over them, her eyes trailing to her right. From her place on the steps, and she was sure from any place on the ground too, the crumbling dome of Variel’s temple was visible. Perhaps that had been intentional on the High Priest’s part. They wanted to be able to keep an eye on the forbidden goddess at all times. They wanted to know if she ever appeared or if she was being worshipped. She had no more time to think on it though as the High Priest stepped out robed in cloth of gold and yellow silk to come to the top of the steps.

“Good People of Port Tythrenn, today is a joyous day!” He called, his voice carrying over the crowd. “Today Lord Solreth, the mightiest of the Gods, returns to us as we bring him a new place of honor and worship to inhabit!” Cheers erupted, drowning out all other sound until the High Priest raised his hands. “Today is truly a wondrous day, but before we can look to the future we must look to the past in remembrance. Today we honor the memory of the men of Solreth, the Priests of Solreth, who lost their lives as the old temple burned to the ground. The best way to honor their memory is for me to finally tell the truth to all of you.” A murmur ran through the crowd and Gwen felt her pulse quicken.

“The story begins eight years ago when a girl-child was led astray by the forbidden goddess Variel.” Quiet gasps and murmurs began to echo through the crowd. “She was brought to me immediately and we housed her. We, the Priests of Solreth, saw it as our duty to teach her the error of her ways and get to her repent and return to Solreth. But Variel’s grip on her was too strong. The young woman became deranged and unstable. After living on our hospitality for four years, she turned on us while we slept. She unleashed the fires of Variel on the men that clothed her, fed her, and gave her a place to sleep. The pitiful creature then tried to run from her crimes. But Solreth would not have any of that. He granted a young man of the Tythrenn Watch the knowledge of where to find her and he used Solreth’s power to subdue her and brought her to justice.” A cheer went up.

Gwen fought hard to keep her face impassive. How twisted the story had become. She was certain he believed every word of it. Yes, they had clothed her with one robe. Yes, she had had a place to sleep in the closet he locked her in each night. And yes, he had fed her just enough to survive. As for Elden using Solreth’s power to bring her in, she doubted the god would be pleased with his trickery. That was more Voleus’ line of work. The High Priest was painting her up to be a monster to be hated.

“Today I would like to honor that young man from the Watch,” the High Priest called. Gwen felt a grimace pull at her lips when he extended a hand to where Elden stood. “Sergeant Elden Wood, please join me.” He called. “Sergeant Wood has stopped many crimes since he joined the Watch. He has brought many criminals to face Solreth’s Justice. But the most notable thing this city should recognize him for, is his capture of the Temple Burner.” He turned Elden to face the cheering crowds. “Today Port Tythrenn honors him for his work with this purse of gold,” the High Priest handed over a belt purse clinking with coins. “And Solreth honors him with this Sundisk retrieved from the ruins of the old temple,” he held up a golden pendant the size of Gwen’s head on a heavy golden chain and then lowered it over Elden’s head for it to rest against his chest. “His Royal Highness and the Blessed would also like to extend their personal honors to him.”

He pointed Elden over to where Daric stood as Daric offered out a hand. She watched a moment as Daric said something only Elden could hear while they shook hands and then Elden was pointed along to Gavril. Gwen panicked. No one had told her of this. No one had said she would need to offer some sort of honoring to her brother. Worse, she was supposed to be honoring him for catching her. Why hadn’t anyone told her? She glanced to Ameia and saw minor annoyance cross her beautiful face. Perhaps none of the other Blessed had known this was coming. Perhaps they were just used to these sorts of things. She was new to this side of being Blessed. Perhaps this was something they did often enough that they were prepared to do it for anyone they were directed towards.

Now Elden was crossing the steps and going towards Paxton. She had nothing to say. She didn’t want him to recognize her. She couldn’t look away from him while she offered her words of honor to him, but she couldn’t look at his face either. He moved to Edith and she wished more than anything for him to pass her by. And then she was staring at the blue and brown tunic of a man in the Tythrenn Watch and Elden was in front of her. 

The coolness that had been at her back wrapped around her body like someone embracing her from behind. It almost felt like a hand guiding her hand up to meet Elden’s in a firm handshake while more coolness encompassed her neck until it caught her throat, her lips, and her tongue.

“Congratulations, Elden Wood, on betraying and killing your own sister,” Gwen heard her whisper echoed by a thousand other voices. Elden stiffened but did not pull his hand from hers. “You do fine work in this city, even Solreth takes notice, but know that every beating you have protected someone against, she was beaten three times over. For every rape you stopped, she was raped three times over. For every murder you stopped, she suffered her own sort of death. Had you never abandoned her in your fear, she and those men would have lived. Had you loved her as she loved you, she would have brought balance to your kingdom. Instead you have killed that future with your own two hands.” Her hand was released and she felt the coolness return to its place at her back but not leave her altogether. She looked up into Elden’s blue eyes to see they were wide, and he was pale as he looked down at her. “Congratulations again, Sergeant Wood.” Gwen forced out of her mouth, the voice belonging completely to herself this time. “I believe your family is waiting.” 

He turned and walked away as if she hadn’t said anything to frighten him. She gave him credit, but his eyes remained trained on her as he retook his spot amongst their family. She could also feel Damon’s eyes trained on her, making her wish he was closer so he could shield her from Elden’s view once again.

“Now that we have honored the past we look to the future!” The High Priest shouted as if nothing strange had just passed. “And that is a future where Solreth will triumph over Variel and we shall enter his reign of eternal peace!” The roar of enthusiasm from the crowds left the temple steps shaking. “We have one final blow to strike against Variel in this city and that is her temple. Yes, I know. A temple to Variel in our great city? It has been abandoned and ignored. She has long since abandoned her temple here. And today we shall take it from her so that she can never return.”

Gwen felt her stomach start to sink and her power flare. Something bad was about to happen. Something terrible. The coolness behind her had turned ice cold and was crackling with energy she felt reflected in her own power.

“Look to your left everyone,” the High Priest pointed. “There to the side you can see a small pink dome that is the top of the Temple of Variel. I want you all to chant Solreth’s holy name with me and we shall be rid of the forbidden temple forever!” He called. A chant picked up immediately and Gwen looked around frantic to see someone coming to her rescue. Gavril was grimacing but not looking her way. She couldn’t find Damon in the sea of people. Her eyes went to Elden who stood not chanting but with his eyes still locked on her. And then she looked up as she heard a sound like an explosion and her eyes landed on the small pink dome as it caved inward in cloud of dust and vanished altogether.

The world around Gwen vanished as the coldness at her back gripped her and dragged her vision inward to her power. The thousand voiced voice that belonged to Variel was screaming inside of her head while her Godsfyre roared to life with twisting winds and bits of blue white lightning cracking inside of it. This was chaos and it was twisting together inside of her while Variel screamed in her mind. 

It twisted together to create a cyclone inside of her that slammed against her barriers. She forced her vision outward to see the crowds were watching her in horrified silence. If she unleashed the power inside of her now it would kill these people. It wouldn’t discriminate against citizen of Port Tythrenn, Royal Guard, fellow Blessed, Daric, or even her family standing below her. She felt the cyclone slam into her barriers again. She felt them start to give as Variel directed her power. It crashed into her barriers again and she could feel Variel’s triumph in the loosening of Gwen’s grip. It hurt with each hit. The effort drained what little energy she had.

“Is this really what you want?” Gwen managed to gasp out loud. “To prove to these people that you are exactly the sort of monster they paint you to be?” The cyclone inside of her hesitated a moment and then crashed into her barriers once more. She bit back a scream of her own. The wailing in her head was louder. Somewhere she could hear other people screaming but she couldn’t think of the crowds anymore. She was locked in battle with her power and the goddess that had put it there.

“I won’t let you kill these people,” she whispered. “You’ll have to kill me first,” she felt her knees give as she focused more energy on her barriers. She’d use up her life force before she allowed anyone else to die by her power and her hand. “Don’t be this. Show them how merciful you can be,” her whisper was almost nothing now. “Show them they are wrong about you.” Her body swayed unable to hold up any longer. In a moment, Variel would win and the true terrors would start.

Suddenly the cyclone unraveled inside of her and the screaming ceased. Gwen had no time to be grateful as darkness closed around her mind and there was nothing more.


	22. Chapter 21

Damon

He was running. Not away from the steps like his body told him to, but towards the steps where Gwen was swaying. He wanted to catch her before she fell but others were holding him back. He turned to look at the owner of the hands that kept him from going further and found Nic.

“That’s Godsfyre whipping around her, remember?” He demanded. Damon looked back at the small figure on the steps and frowned. The moment the Temple of Variel had collapsed Gwen had become engulfed in a Godsfyre cyclone, but this one was different. It looked less substantial, almost like a shadow or a reflection on water as it swirled around her. Lightning flickered in its depths and Gwen’s skirt and hair twisted in the winds. It rose up above her nearly fifty feet. Paxton had pulled Edith away to the other side of the steps where the other Blessed stood frozen.

“I said I would protect her,” Damon turned to wrench his arm from Nic.

The cyclone was throwing Gwen’s voice to the whole crowd. She seemed to be trying to reason with someone. Herself, he thought at first, but then a new thought struck him. Variel. She was reasoning with the goddess.

“I won’t kill these people,” her voice echoed in the square. “You’ll have to kill me first.” She dropped to her knees on the steps and Nic released his arm. Damon ignored all reason as he ran up the steps. Her voice was getting weaker. Perhaps Variel was killing her. He’d break his promise to her simply because there was nothing he could do to protect her from her own power and the goddess that had granted it.

“Don’t be this. Show them how merciful you can be,” her whisper was almost nothing now. “Show them they are wrong about you.”

Damon’s mind was racing. She was dying and he needed to get to her, now. But Nic had been right. She was inside of the Godsfyre cyclone once again. Nic had held him back to remind him the same way Damon had done for him not more than a couple months before. What had changed that had made him willing to rush to her aid without thought for if he could even survive getting to her?

She was swaying hard and any moment she would fall to the steps. He was close enough to see blood dripping from her nose. Then suddenly the cyclone vanished and Gwen was alone on the steps. Her eyes slid closed and her body fell forward. Damon caught her before she hit the steps below. Her skin was ice cold as he shifted a hand up to her neck to find a pulse. He pressed against the vein near her throat and held still waiting. Nothing. There was nothing. He laid her down on the step she had been standing on and pressed an ear to her chest, praying that he’d hear something.

“Sergeant?” Ameia’s voice shuddered when her hand went to rest against his shoulder.

“I can’t find her heartbeat,” he whispered pulling back.

“Okay,” she knelt next to him and placed her hand against Gwen’s breast. After a long moment she pulled her hand back. “She’s alive. Barely. We should get her out of here.”

Damon needed nothing more. She was alive and the best way to protect her was to get her away from the Temple of Solreth. He picked her up and pulled her against him, willing some warmth into her body. He debated a moment once he held her. A horse would get them to the inn much faster, but he would have to wait for it to be saddled and he would need to deal with it once he got to the inn. It was better to walk. They were close enough that it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

The people that remained in the crowd parted to let them by. Whether it was out of respect or because they feared the woman in his arms, he didn’t bother asking. Ameia was behind him, not moving as fast as he was but she was following. Some people had panicked while Gwen had fought to protect them. While it had thinned the crowd in the square, it meant that by the time he reached the edge of the temples, there were still people to watch out for and to dodge when they didn’t move out of the way quick enough.

He was running again but he wasn’t sure why. Ameia wasn’t running, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. He wanted her some place out of the sight of that temple. He wanted her some place comfortable. He wanted her some place he could get rid of her damned costume so he could see the color of her skin to know she wasn’t the waxy paleness of death underneath of the paste that coated her skin.

At the inn he didn’t bother explaining anything to the inn staff that were still in the common room. He dodged past them up to the room that Gwen had been assigned to. He fumbled for the key in his pocket and felt someone take it from his hand. Keiran unlocked the door and pushed it open for him. When had Keiran come? He didn’t know but he was grateful.

“Please tell me you made this so I can pull it off over her head, Ameia,” Keiran called back to the door. “I’m going to cut the seam if I can’t get it off. Damon sit her up.” Keiran had abandoned his robes by the door, Damon guessed it was because they would get in the way. Now he sat on the edge of Gwen’s small bed and was tugging on the silk dress she wore. Damon sat her up and watched as Keiran shimmied the dress up her legs and under her behind until he could pull it up and off. Then Gwen was naked from the waist up and Damon was allowed to lay her back on the bed.

“I’ll finish getting her cleaned up. I doubt she wants either of you seeing her in such a vulnerable position,” Ameia caught Damon’s arm and gave him a shove towards the door and then did the same to Keiran. The door closed in front of them without another word.

“Did you know?” Damon found his voice after a few quiet moments of staring at the door. “That the High Priest would…” his voice caught. How could anyone be so stupid as to anger any of the gods in such a way? Had Gwen been anything short of what she was, the death toll would have been unimaginable.

“No. I can’t imagine Daric would have approved it either,” Keiran rested his head against the wall. “I thought we were all going to die. Did you hear Variel screaming?”

“Variel was screaming?” Damon frowned. He hadn’t heard anything.

“She was screaming, and it was horrible. Perhaps you need to be a Blessed to have heard it,” Keiran shook his head. “I thought we were all going to die.”

“You said that already,” Damon reminded him.

“I know,” his breath shuddered. “I’ll never understand how you can see something like that and run towards it.” He pulled away from the wall. “How do you do that?”

Damon stared at Keiran. Of course he had run towards it, but he had hardly paid any mind to the cyclone circling around her. He simply had run towards Gwen. He had wanted to protect her. It made no sense. It truly didn’t. Several months ago, he had watched her face down a true Godsfyre cyclone, and he hadn’t run blindly towards her. 

But an image entered his mind from the night before. Of Gwen standing in the hall looking so vulnerable when she had said she needed to go to Variel’s Temple. The same vulnerability that she had shown as she had told him about being abandoned, the mistreatment of the temple priests, and her burning down the temple. The same vulnerability that was clear on her face when she had stood in front of him when they had returned and she had thought he thought she was a monster. And it was the same vulnerability that was on her face when he had helped her off his mount earlier. 

No, he hadn’t thought about the cyclone until Nic had stopped him. He had thought about Gwen in the center of it battling something he couldn’t see or help with. He had thought about trying to find some way to get her out alive. But he couldn’t tell Keiran that because Keiran would read far too much into it. But one look back at Keiran told Damon that Keiran was lost in his thoughts again.

“You! You’re the one that took her!” Damon turned towards the stairs and saw Elden standing there with Jasson at his side and another man that appeared to be related. He guessed it was Gwen’s third brother, Tomas. “Where is she!?” Elden demanded.

“Stand down or I’ll have you all held for treason,” Keiran stepped in front of Damon.

“We just want to speak with her,” Jasson pushed in front of Elden. “She’s our sister.”

“Lady Gwen was abandoned at the age of ten.” Damon growled. He hoped putting her title in front of her name would intimidate them a little. How dare they try and claim her now. He wasn’t going to let them threaten her. He wasn’t going to let them hurt her physically or emotionally. He wasn’t going to let them near her at all if he had a say. 

“Please,” Tomas took a step forward. “We need to talk to her.”

“Lady Gwen is in no position to speak to anyone right now,” Ameia stepped out of Gwen’s room. “She just needs some true rest, well, actually, a lot of true rest, and she’ll be back to herself,” she turned to Keiran.

“Please,” Jasson tried again.

“Haven’t you caused enough damage?” Gavril’s voice boomed from the steps. “That sorry excuse of a High Priest is calling for her execution, from his hiding place inside of the temple, that is. He wants her dead for the crime of bearing Variel’s Blessing. Never mind that she just saved his life and the lives of everyone there.”

Damon straightened and looked to Gavril. The High Priest was calling for Gwen’s execution. Even if Daric or Keiran stood between them and Gwen, it was only a matter of time before someone risked being marked a traitor to fulfill that wish. The High Priest of Solreth in Port Tythrenn seemed to be worshipped nearly as much as his god.

“We need to get her on a ship to Oleryn tonight then,” Damon announced. “To guarantee her safety.” He looked to Ameia, Gwen’s healer and friend. She would be the best person to accompany her back to Oleryn. “Ameia, I hate to ask.” He stopped when he saw Keiran, Gavril, and Ameia all exchange a look.

“You should go with her, Damon,” Ameia’s voice was quiet. “She trusts you.”

For a fleeting second Damon wanted to agree. He could trust she was being taken care of if he went with her. He could trust that she was in good hands and that someone was willing to tell her to get her Blessed behind back in bed when she decided she needed to work on some recipe or another. He could trust she’d make it back to the palace in one piece and that she’d be monitored once she got there. He could trust that she’d feel safe enough to sleep. The only other person she had proven she could sleep around and actually with, in his bed, was Gavril.

But Damon couldn’t go with Gwen. His reality was Daric. He needed to stay with Daric because he was the Sergeant of Daric’s Guard. And there was no way he could ask Daric to leave when there was bound to be Royal clean up needed in Port Tythrenn after that sort of display.

“I have to stay with Daric,” he whispered turning away from Gwen’s door. He wanted more than anything to go with her and ensure that she was safe. But Daric was his duty. Guarding his best friend was his life. Gwen would understand that. She did understand that. “Gavril. She trusts you more than she trusts me. She doesn’t need her guard standing over her. She needs her brother.”

“I can’t. I need to deal with the fallout from this. How dare that idiot claim to represent Solreth? Solreth is angry. He wants justice for his sister. And I want justice for mine!” Gavril growled.

“I’ll go,” Keiran announced. “No one cares what Alonox has to say about the affairs of Solreth and Variel. No one will notice I’m gone. And Gwen is as much my sister as she is Gavril’s.”

“People will have to listen to you too. You’re a Prince of Dovania for all you try and hide it,” Ameia turned to Keiran. “And you can make her sleep!”

“You know I hate doing that. I don’t want to control someone like that,” Keiran took Ameia’s hands. It wasn’t the first time Damon had watched him show his affection for Eiannae’s Chosen but it was the first time he saw Ameia truly respond to it.

“I know, Darling. But it’s healer’s orders for her to sleep. You know how she doesn’t like to rest. And you can ensure when she gets back to the palace that she’s protected properly. Even I know how much you’ve done for her in place of Daric.” Ameia leaned into Keiran’s chest for a long moment. “She trusts you too. She thinks highly of you.”

“Then I had best get packed up if I am to get her out of here before the tide. My Sweet, can you get her packed?” Keiran sighed.

“I’ll get her packed,” Damon straightened. “Go say your goodbyes.” He couldn’t help but smile at the grateful looks on both Keiran and Ameia’s faces. Whatever their relationship was, it had probably been as hidden as how responsible Keiran was. He could at least respect that they could use a few private moments to say goodbye.

“What are you three still standing here for? She’ll be out of your hair soon and you can go back to pretending she doesn’t exist,” Gavril snapped. Damon turned to see Gwen’s brothers still standing by the stairs. They simply stared at Gavril. “Damon, go get her packed up. Stay with her until we can get her transported. Don’t worry about Daric, Nic stayed back to help out.”

In Gwen’s room, he turned to face her on the bed and found Ameia had found clothes for her. Her hair was still in the glossy curls and likely would remain that way until she managed to wash out whatever Ameia had put in it. The white paste had been cleaned off her face, upper chest, and arms. Her bracers had been removed but not replaced with her leather bracelets. The shock of the white scars against the undamaged skin around them made him grimace. She had no need to hide those anymore, but he knew she would want them hidden. 

With a sigh he went to her trunk and cursed. The leather bracelets would be down at the warehouse with the rest of her clothes from that morning. He would retrieve them later and then bring them back to the palace with him. She’d understand getting her to safety was more important than sending her home with the two strips of leather she normally wore. He found the jewelry box she kept her bracelets in and dug through them to find something just as soft that she could wear them comfortably in her sleep. He came back to her with a pair of braided cloth strips to wrap around her damaged wrists. 

For a moment he stared down at her. Her chest wasn’t visibly rising and falling with breath. He wanted some assurance she was alive, so he reached to check her pulse again, but the vein refused to throb under his fingers. He bent down to press his ear to her chest and held his breath. In the silence of her room he heard the faint, slow beats of her heart. 

When he was assured that she was truly alive he turned to start packing her trunk. She had acquired a number of bottles, jars, and vials that all needed to be cushioned. She had gained books. He wasn’t sure it would all fit but he was going to try and get it all and anything that didn’t fit, he’d bring later. They had replaced her damaged trunk at the beginning of her visit. Now he wished they would have gotten her a bigger one. In the end the only thing he couldn’t fit in was the blanket Gwen had brought with her. And that was fine, he didn’t intend to pack that away. He wanted her to stay wrapped in it.

“How is she?” Damon turned to look at Daric standing in the door.

“I don’t know, honestly. Ameia said she just needs rest, but her heartbeat is so weak. Her pulse doesn’t even register,” he sighed. “We’re getting her out of here.”

“I know. I talked to Gavril. We will need to stay a little longer than we planned. We need to figure out how to address this issue. We can’t have someone angering the gods on such a level.” Daric leaned against the doorframe. “Keiran is escorting her home then?”

“Yes, it seems to be the best option,” Damon turned to look away from Daric. It was the best option after himself and Gavril, but he didn’t want Daric to read that on his face. Despite the last few months of distance between them, Daric was still his best friend. Daric knew him well enough to read every subtle muscle twitch in his face.

“You could go with her,” Daric said finally. “Go with them. Keiran doesn’t have a guard. Gwen doesn’t have a guard. It would make sense if you were to go with them.”

Daric was giving him the out he craved. Giving him the reasoning that he could use to abandon his post to go with her and make sure she was cared for. But Daric would also know him well enough to know he’d argue. There was no way he could abandon his post unless Daric ordered him to go. So far he had only suggested it.

“And leave you to this mess? You’re joking,” Damon tried. If Daric really wanted him to go, he’d press and eventually give an order.

“She’s truly unconscious?” Daric glanced at Gwen and when Damon nodded, he closed the door. “I need to know that she is seen safely to the palace. She trusts you. She stayed because you stopped her from leaving. I need you to keep convincing her to stay. I need you to convince her that I am truly remorseful of my failures to her. I need you to be the one to convince her that I am worth her time.”

Damon stared at Daric. What did he mean that he was worth her time?

“My father has made a choice for me. He has had a dream that the future King of Dovania will have a Queen that is Blessed. But Ameia belonged to Keiran by the time my father had this epiphany, and not even my father is willing to hurt Keiran that way. Edith could have been groomed but I doubt she’d ever have been deemed suitable and I doubt she’d ever part with Paxton. But Gwen, she’s unattached. She’s intelligent, beautiful, stronger than Gavril in her power, and strong enough to face down her own Goddess. She will be the future Queen of Dovania. My Queen. So, I need you to keep befriending her. Find out what I need to do to make her mine.” Daric was staring at Gwen as Damon stared at him.

The puzzle pieces were coming together. The reason Daric had assigned his own squad to Gwen and had lied to her as to why and why he had refused to tell Damon why exactly he had been assigned to her. He wanted to build her trust by looking like he was making some grand gesture in assigning his own personal squad. Something Damon and his men would have objected to. They were not to be used like that. But it had been done and it had failed because Damon had revealed Daric’s lie.

Then he was imagining Gwen as the Queen of Dovania. He couldn’t imagine the Gwen he saw daily willing to put on a gown and crown to sit on a throne and run the social aspects of court. But he could see her dressed in her costume on Daric’s arm as he flaunted her about. He doubted she’d be happy about it, but perhaps she’d do it if she was forced to remain at the palace because she’d feel she’d have to. Perhaps King Alaric would threaten her with revoking her pardon or perhaps he wouldn’t even need to threaten it. Gwen was afraid enough of Faserlaeh that she’d do anything to avoid even the threat of going back.

“She won’t want to be Queen of Dovania,” Damon informed Daric.

“Not yet, but once she sees that I’m devoted to her, she’ll agree. She trusted you enough to take you to her temple last night. Soon she’ll trust you enough to tell you anything. Once she’s there, you will tell me what I need to know to win her heart.” Daric turned to smile at Damon. “Go figure, the one woman I can’t charm into my bed and she’s the one my father chooses.”

“Does Keiran know you’re planning this?” Damon found his voice. Was Keiran in on making sure that Gwen was kept happy at the palace so that she’d stay and fall for his brother? He couldn’t imagine that Keiran would possibly be on board with that.

“No. All he knows is my father wants her to stay. My father likes to have all of his Blessed under his control.” Daric glanced back at Gwen.

“I can’t go with her,” Damon announced. He wouldn’t go with her and convince her to stay. Keiran would take good care of her. Keiran would make sure she made it back safe and that she was cared for. Keiran would be a good enough guard. “I need to stay with you. Who’s to say that High Priest won’t think much of attacking a Crowned Prince?”

After a long moment Daric let out a sigh. “You’re right. He might not think much of it. I’ll just have to hope Keiran can charm her enough.” He sighed again. “You can help me find some grand gift to bring her when I return home to her instead.”

The door opened again and Keiran poked his head in. He took in Daric standing with Damon and the closed trunk and then stepped fully into the room.

“I sent a messenger down to the docks. The Royal Charter is here early since we were planning on leaving tomorrow. They are ready to go and so am I. Is she ready?” He asked.

“Yes. She’s all packed up.” Damon stepped closer to the trunk.

“What about her blanket?” Keiran nodded to the blanket draped over her.

“Leave her wrapped in it. Clearly, she finds comfort in it if she dragged it all the way from the palace,” Damon sighed. He didn’t want to give Daric that information, but he didn’t think Daric could do much with finding out she favored that blanket, the same blanket he had made her take when she had been injured after her cyclone incident. 

“Right,” Keiran nodded his understanding. “I want an escort to bring her down to the docks.”

“I’ll get one together. Be careful with that trunk. She has some delicate vials inside,” Damon left the room. He wanted her to have an escort to and he’d make sure he was part of it. He went straight for the common room and immediately noted it had filled with Royal Guard, but he also noted Gwen’s brothers were still there along with more people that looked to be related. Of course, her whole family would be there if Elden was being honored. But they weren’t his concern right now.

“Sergeant!” He heard Julian call his name. “Lady Gwen is alive, isn’t she?” The room hushed.

“She is, but we need to get her out of Port Tythrenn now. I need an escort for Prince Keiran and Lady Gwen to the docks.” Hands rose up from over half of the room. Sergeant Nic’s men, Sergeant Aloys’ men, and his own men. Only the men sworn to Paxton and Edith weren’t as attached to her, but she spent no time with them. He made his choices and then called Julian over. “Prepare my horse and Keiran’s. We’ll need a cart for their trunks.”

“Consider it done,” he turned to weave his way out of the inn.

Damon climbed back up the stairs and found Keiran struggling to carry Gwen wrapped in her blanket. Keiran wasn’t much for the practice courts. He was strong enough to probably carry a conscious person of Gwen’s size but with Gwen unconscious and unable to help at all, she was practically dead weight and that would be difficult for him. Damon stepped forward and took Gwen from Keiran’s hold. He cradled her against him, letting her head fall to his shoulder.

“I have an escort and someone preparing our horses and getting a cart,” Damon announced.

“They won’t have to go far. I already called for our horses and a cart before I came to you,” Keiran commented. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m not as helpless as my brother in these situations.” Keiran wasn’t even looking at Damon but Damon wasn’t surprised that he knew what sort of look was on Damon’s face.

“Let’s get her down to that ship. What did you do with Daric?” Damon followed Keiran to the stairs.

“He went to change into something less formal to go back at deal with the High Priest. I know you’ll look out for him. He’s going to need your knowledge of Solreth and Solreth’s scriptures. He’s going to need your ability to sense when he’s about to talk himself into danger.” Keiran admitted. “I know you want to make sure she’s protected. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

“I know,” Damon did know that Keiran would protect her. He wouldn’t necessarily run towards whatever shadow of power that had surrounded her earlier, but he’d throw royal authority about to make sure she was cared for.

The men of the Royal Guard pulled back when they reached the common room to give them a path to walk through. Those he had picked to escort them were moving to follow. All of them were armed because their parade gear required armor and weapons. Outside Julian waited with the cart. Gwen’s trunk was already there as was Keiran’s. They mounted up.

They arrived at the docks without incident to Damon’s relief. He followed Keiran on board the ship while the other men took care of the trunks. Someone led them to Gwen’s room and Damon went to lay her down on the bed.

“I’ll give you a moment,” Keiran announced and left before Damon could ask him why. 

But he knew why. Just like Damon had allowed Keiran a moment to say goodbye to Ameia, he was allowing Damon a moment to say his farewells to Gwen. But Gwen was unconscious, and she wouldn’t know he had even been there. He wrapped Gwen’s blanket around her a little more firmly and adjusted the pillows under her head. And after a long few seconds of making sure the door was closed and no one was watching, he leaned down to press his lips to her forehead.

“I am not going to help Daric get his hands on you,” he whispered the promise more to himself than to Gwen. “Solreth guide you.” Then he left because he knew if he stayed any longer it would be harder to go.

When he arrived back at the inn, the men had cleared out. He would need to go prepare to accompany Daric when he decided to go deal with the High Priest, but first he wanted to go to his room and take a moment by himself to gather his thoughts.

His room was empty of Aloys and Nic, but he didn’t expect them to be around. He expected them to be with Ameia and Gavril. He sat down on his bed and then went to lay back against the pillow. His head hit something hard. Damon reached under the pillow and pulled out several objects. The first two items were Gwen’s leather bracelets tied around each other to keep them together. The second was a glass perfume bottle half full of an amber liquid. Curious, he sprayed it into the air and froze. The fragrance was the same ghostly scent of cinnamon and orange peel that clung to Gwen. It was her perfume. Damon sat up and lifted the pillow completely. As he expected, a small roll of paper sat there.

_Don’t make me regret stealing these for you. –E._

Damon grinned. Edith had to have stolen the bracelets earlier that day when they had all been at the warehouse. But she also had to have stolen the perfume before Damon had packed up Gwen’s belongings. It hadn’t been one of the bottles he had stuffed into her trunk. He was grateful for the thought. But he wasn’t going to let her know it. And he was certain that was exactly what she expected of him.


	23. Chapter 22

Gwen found herself standing in the common room of The Merry Wood. It was dark and empty of life. It had to be late, so she didn’t understand why she was there. She heard the door open and turned to see several men dressed in the tunics of the Tythrenn Watch but she didn’t recognize any of them. They whispered to each other the need for quiet and to follow the plan as they tiptoed up the stairs. A few minutes later they came down dragging someone large between them.

She stared at them. The man they dragged was gagged, blindfolded, and shackled but she recognized him immediately. It was Damon. He twisted against their hold and was trying to kick at tables and chairs to raise some sort of alarm, but the men kept the path clear of objects that would make noise.

She tried to turn to run up the stairs to go raise the alarm herself, but something pulled her to follow the men instead. She followed after them, thinking that perhaps she could use her power to do something to protect Damon, but it didn’t rise up when she called to it. She tried to grab at one of the men’s batons and her hand passed through it. She couldn’t touch them.

It occurred to her this might be a dream, but it felt real. It didn’t feel like dreams did. But she had no reason to have been standing in the common room alone in the middle of the night with no recollection of how she had gotten there. The last thing she remembered Variel had released her and she had passed out. That was it.

She followed as the men of the Watch brought Damon up to the Temple of Solreth where the High Priest waited. His hands were wrapped around that damned ivory cane as he glared down at Damon. The blindfold was removed, and Damon was forced to kneel on those marble and gold tiled steps. 

“You’ve been charged with committing crimes against Solreth by aiding Variel’s Chosen,” the High Priest gave Damon a smile. “She’ll get what’s coming to her eventually. She can’t hide from me forever.” He leaned down to stare directly into Damon’s eyes. “How dare you try and tell me our scriptures are false. How dare you tell me that I have insulted Solreth with my treatment of that murderess. How dare you take her from me when she deserves to be executed. You’ll never be able to get between her and me again.” He backed up away from Damon and looked to the men of the Watch. “Do it.”

Gwen saw one take out their baton and she screamed as he raised it up over Damon’s head and brought it down. Damon slumped to the ground.

“Take him and clean up this mess. Remember, this never happened,” the High Priest glanced leaned down to poke his cane against Damon’s shoulder.

“He’ll talk when he wakes,” one of the men whispered. “What if someone believes him?”

“No one will believe him where he is going,” the other replied.

Gwen sat up in bed wide awake breathing hard. A second later the door opened and Keiran stood there wearing only a night shirt. He took in her sitting up in bed and then touched a mage light to bring it to life.

“Well, I can honestly say I don’t feel like magicking you back to sleep when you wake up screaming like that,” he informed her.

“Damon,” she gasped out. She needed to make sure that it was only a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare

“He’s not here, Gwen,” Keiran sighed. “I knew I should have insisted he come with.” He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Where is he?” Gwen asked as she reached a hand up to wipe away wetness from her cheeks.

“He’s back in Port Tythrenn with Daric,” Keiran produced a handkerchief for her.

She frowned at his words. She was in Port Tythrenn, wasn’t she? She looked around the room and realized it was bigger than the room she had been in at the inn. There were windows that looked out at the star bright sky and the moon over water. She could feel the gentle rocking of water under them. They were on a boat. Likely on the Royal Charter since she knew no rooms like this existed on the Royal Navy ships. But if she was on a ship, then Damon and Daric should have been on the same ship. Gavril should have been on this ship. Keiran was not supposed to be on this ship if she was there.

“I don’t understand,” she looked around again. It didn’t make sense.

“Damon ordered it and I seconded it. We needed to get you out of there fast. The High Priest was calling for your execution,” Keiran turned to the bedside table where a cup sat. He pressed it into her hands while she thought. If Damon was indeed still in Port Tythrenn then it was likely the nightmare was not a nightmare. It certainly felt real. 

“We need to turn around. We need to go back,” she announced suddenly. She could go back and find where they were holding him. If the dream was true, he was alive. He would be alive and just knocked out. She’d drag Daric in and make him do something royal to save him.

“Gwen, we’re arriving in Oleryn in the morning. We can’t just turn around and go back,” he explained. Gwen frowned again. The trip from Port Tythrenn back to Oleryn would have taken just over a week. That meant she had slept for nearly a week. “Would you like some help sleeping again?” He asked, his fingers twitching with what appeared to starlight.

“Did you make me sleep?” Gwen asked remembering that Keiran had that power.

“Only to help you heal. I was under Ameia’s orders to make sure you slept,” he explained.

“Oh,” she frowned.

“Let me help you sleep until morning,” Keiran sighed.

“No, I don’t want to sleep anymore. I want to go back. Something is wrong, Keiran. I can feel it,” she struggled to push the blanket off her body. Keiran stopped her and pressed her back down on the bed.

“We can’t just turn around. We don’t have supplies to go back right now and even if we made port tomorrow, got supplies, and went back. We’d miss them. Daric planned to leave tomorrow or the day after. We would get to Port Tythrenn when they would be arriving in Oleryn. Damon would have my head if I brought you back there, treason for killing a prince or no.”

“I need to talk to Damon,” Gwen tried again. If she could just be assured it was just a nightmare. She needed to know it wasn’t real.

“Hear me out. We’ll be back in Oleryn tomorrow. You’re still in need of rest. I can tell you’re still feeling weak and that’s understandable. You held back Variel. I’m still surprised you’re alive. So we’re going to go back and you’re going to take it easy. Then as soon as I know they are anywhere near the port outside of Oleryn, if you are healed enough, I will arrange an escort for us back to the docks and you can spend the whole ride home telling Damon whatever it is that is so important to tell him right now.”

Gwen fought the urge to tell Keiran about her dream. It was silly for her to be so worked up over a dream. It was silly for her to need assurance right now. She could wait a week to prove to herself that Damon was fine and she had only had a nightmare. She’d see Damon in a little over a week.

“Will you let me help you sleep now?” Keiran asked when she settled back.

“I don’t like the idea of being magicked to sleep,” she admitted finally.

“It’s quick. You won’t even know it’s happening. You’ll wake up when it’s time for us to get ready to get off this ship tomorrow.” He assured her. “And I’ll be right here.”

“Okay,” she sighed. She did still feel weak and she didn’t think she’d be able to sleep on her own if she tried. Despite the assurances to herself that she was being silly, she still felt that there was truth in that nightmare.

She didn’t even realize she was asleep until she noticed she was again standing in the common room of The Merry Wood and it was morning. No one was looking at her or seemed to notice her though she could see Gavril and Nic eating quietly together. This was another dream.

“Has anyone seen Damon this morning?” Daric asked coming into the common room. “He’s not in his room and his things aren’t packed. He knew we needed to get down to the docks before midday.”

“That doesn’t sound like Damon,” Gavril set his knife and fork down and stood.

“No it doesn’t,” someone else admitted. “He should be walking around making sure everyone else is packed up.”

“His bed wasn’t made this morning,” Nic announced. “He never leaves his bed unmade. I’ve seen him get up in the middle of the night and at least take a moment to put it in some order.”

“Did you check Gwen’s room? Perhaps he went there,” Aiden commented. “You know he’s been worried about her.”

“I checked. Her room is empty,” Daric scanned the room once more and let out a very unprincely curse. “Search the city. I want him found. I need a messenger to go to the docks to tell the captains of the ships we are holding until he is found.”

Gwen heard nothing more as her eyes opened and she was looking up at Keiran, now fully clothed in a sunlit room. He smiled down at her.

“I told you that you’d sleep right up until it was time to leave,” he informed her. “I’m not going to ask you to ride a horse. We’re taking a carriage. You’ll be able to stay resting then.” He helped her to sit up and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

Her mind was still stuck on the dreams. They seemed to go together. They seemed to be real. If they did indeed go together and were real, Damon was missing at the hand of the High Priest and Daric was now aware that at least Damon wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

Keiran pulled her arm over his shoulders and kept an arm around her waist to support her as they left the room. He helped her across the open deck of a very large ship and down a gangplank to the docks where a carriage waited for them. He helped her inside while she was lost in her thoughts.

“Are you alright?” Keiran asked her when she felt the carriage start to move. 

“When you use your power to help people sleep,” she turned to look at him and found his eyes were intent on her. “Have they ever reported what they dream to you? Do they dream true things?”

“What do you mean?” Keiran sat forward a bit on his seat.

“Last night and this morning. I had dreams. They felt real, like I was really there but no one could see or hear me.” She glanced out the window and bit her lip. “Damon won’t be on that ship unless they find him. I don’t think they will.” Once the High Priest decided he wanted rid of someone, they went away. She couldn’t guess where they planned to send him but she would bet anything he was gone from Port Tythrenn before Daric even realized he was gone. She had been tried and sent off before dawn when he had decided to be rid of her. He had better reason to be rid of her than Damon but he seemed to think Damon had robbed him of the chance to have her executed.

“Tell me about the dreams,” Keiran demanded. 

So she did. Every detail that she could remember down to what the men of the Watch looked like and what Damon was wearing. When she was done, Keiran moved to sit next to her on her bench and he put an arm around her shoulders.

“I don’t like to use my power to help people to sleep. I’ve only done it a few times and no one has ever reported something like that to me. I would be interested to see if you are right and if it was my power that made it possible for you to see it. But I don’t want you to be right. I don’t want those dreams to be real and I doubt you want them to be real either. That’s why you wanted to talk to Damon last night. You wanted assurance it was just a dream and nothing more.” He squeezed her tight. “We’ll be on these docks one way or another when they return. We’ll know then, and then we’ll come up with a plan.”

They rode in silence for another half an hour before Gwen realized she would need a distraction. She wasn’t about to ask Keiran to help her sleep again so she decided to do something she never thought she’d do. She wanted to get Keiran talking, telling her anything and make it so he could become his annoying, never quiet self.

“I don’t know much about Court. I live at the palace but I don’t know much about the people there. I don’t suppose you know much about it,” she heard Keiran bite back a laugh.

“I suppose Daric would be better to ask but, Dear Gwen, I am a Prince of that Court. I have to at least know something about it. Since my mother died things have gone a little down on the entertainment aspect. That job usually falls to the Queen. As soon as Daric has a wife chosen I’m sure the job will go to her. As it is right now we only have parties, feasts, or balls on big festival days or for big celebrations. But when my mother was alive it was feasts, and balls, and parties at least weekly.” She lost him to describing the way the nobility dressed and acted at such events.

As he spoke, Keiran opened a compartment near the seat and pulled out a basket with two water skins. From the basket he produced cakes and fruit turnovers for them to snack on. When they ran out of things to talk about that involved Court and the nobility, Keiran turned the conversation to her alchemy and her workshop. 

“I’m going to guess that you’ll prefer to sleep in your workshop now that Edith has made it possible,” Keiran sighed. “Let me take a look when we get back and I’ll see if I might be able to help make it a little more comfortable in some way. Damon won’t approve of you sleeping on a pallet on the floor if he can help it.” And there it was again, they were back at Damon though they had avoided mentioning him almost the whole way to the palace. She saw Keiran grimace.

“What happens if he is gone?” Gwen managed to ask.

“We will search for him,” Keiran admitted. “I’ll use that information you had from your dream and I’ll start looking. Damon comes from a very powerful family. One of the largest, wealthiest landholdings in the kingdom belongs to his family. They’ll want to know he’s being looked for at least.” Keiran sighed. “When we get back to the palace I want you to take a long, relaxing bath, put on something comfortable, and I’ll have some real food sent up for you. I’ll find a sleeping draught to help you through tonight so you don’t have to suffer those dreams if they do come from me.”

“Perhaps you should use your power on me. If the dreams are real then I might be able to get more information about where he is,” she tried.

“We’ll see,” Keiran told her. She knew it meant he didn’t want to even consider it. It was obvious he hated using his power on her and even more so because she had mentioned the dreams. “Tomorrow you can go to your workshop if you can get out of bed and walk there with minimal help.”

Gwen nodded her understanding. She wanted the distraction of being in her workshop but she knew she wasn’t exactly strong enough to get there at this point. A bath and a full meal sounded nice. She could wait to go to her workshop until everything was sorted and she had ideas for all of her new ingredients that were packed away in her trunk.

Keiran walked her to her room once they got back to the palace and left her in the privy so she could run herself a bath. Bathed and dressed, she found a meal waiting for her on her table. When the food was gone she took some time to open her trunk and unpack it. Keiran returned when it started to get dark and made her go to her bed and gave her a sleeping draught that locked her in a dreamless sleep until late the next morning.

She made a decision that morning to avoid going to her workshop for the whole week. She wanted to conserve what energy she did have to regaining her strength. She wanted to be able to ride with Keiran to the harbor when word did come about Daric and the other Blessed coming home. The worry that Damon was missing stayed in the back of her mind. She didn’t want to be right. She wanted him to prove her wrong once again.

For eight days she stayed in her rooms working on writing out recipes rather than spending that time walking to her workshop and back. Keiran visited for long hours, always with something to explain to her about palace life or the duties of a Blessed. He called it formal instruction time and she enjoyed listening to him explain if only so she could understand the structure of the place she now lived and to take her mind off of her worries for Damon.

On the ninth day, Keiran walked in before breakfast with a cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders and steered her outside. They had word from the Royal Navy ships that they were going to be docking a little after midday. If they left the palace now, they would be there when they docked.

“We’ll eat on horseback,” Keiran informed her. “Our escort is waiting.” They found their way outside to where men from the Royal Guard that she didn’t know where mounted up waiting for them.

After a long conversation about Oleryn as a capital and the countryside, Keiran fell into silence. She glanced at him and found the worry evident on his face. He was worried that Damon wouldn’t be there. It made her want to ride faster, to push them to get there a little earlier. She needed to put her mind at ease and his. She needed to be wrong.

They arrived at the port in time to see the ships maneuvering to get to the pier to dock. Gwen dismounted and let Keiran fuss over her. She wasn’t as tired as she thought she would be after that ride, but she bet she’d be tired by the time they got home. The ships came to rest at their docks and gangplanks came out. There was a long moment and then people started to come off the ships. 

Gavril came down his gangplank and hailed Keiran immediately. Other heads turned to look at them as Keiran called back.

“Stay here,” Keiran ordered Gwen as he walked over to greet the Sun Blessed. She narrowed her eyes on them as they clasped hands to greet each other. Keiran nodded in her direction and she saw Gavril give the slightest shake of his head. Her heart started to race. She looked to find Daric coming down from his ship and she noted Damon should have been at his side, but he wasn’t. Daric looked different, smaller. Something was wrong. No one was laughing and joking. No one was happy to be almost home.

“Gwen, we should talk,” Gavril approached with Keiran. She saw him trying hard to think of something to say to her. People were watching them now.

“We’re going back to search for him, right?” Gwen turned to look at Keiran. “You said if I was right you would look for him.” Panic was rising up inside of her and she felt her power rising up with it.

“I did say that, and I will,” Keiran lowered his voice.

“We have to go back now!” She found her voice rising along with her panic and power. More people were turning to look at her. “He’s missing because of me! We have to make it right!”

“If you go back the High Priest of Solreth will have you executed,” Gavril’s hands settled on her shoulders. “You need to calm down. You’re raising the winds.” She looked down to see her clothes being pulled about. It concerned her that the wind was responding to her panic, but it wasn’t Godsfyre so she wasn’t too worried.

“What happened to holding the ships until he was found?” She looked past Gavril to where Daric was approaching.

“We couldn’t delay forever,” Daric informed her.

“You barely delayed a day if you’re here already! He would have stayed months searching for you!” She shouted at him.

“That’s his job,” Daric informed her coming closer.

“And what’s yours? To let down anyone that puts their trust in you?” She called and saw him grimace in response.

“Don’t push him, Gwen. He’s hurt by this. King Alaric wouldn’t grant him the time to stay and search,” Gavril leaned down to murmur in her ear.

“But we’re going to search for him?” Gwen tried again.

Daric stepped up in front of her and she felt Gavril and Keiran draw away. He took her hands and held them. “I am not going to stop searching until we find him. That is a promise I can assure you that I will keep. And I want your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the last chapter of the 1st book. I'll start posting the next book in the series soon!

**Author's Note:**

> All comments, compliments, constructive criticism is more than welcome!


End file.
